


Man of Eezo

by gwmclintock88



Category: DCU (Comics), Man of Steel (2013), Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwmclintock88/pseuds/gwmclintock88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Collectors are here. There is no avoiding the issue, no matter how much the Council wants to. A recently revived Commander Shepard begins a quest to stop them from taking human colonies. He begrudgingly accepts the help of Cerberus in defeating their common enemy.</p><p>Shepard isn't the only one who recognizes the problem. Another man steps up, dealing with his own crisis of identity as he struggles to find answers no one else seems to have.  Answers as to why he can do things no man or alien ever could do and survive things others would perish experiencing. A man capable of extraordinary feats. </p><p>A super man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Observations

**Author's Note:**

> This story combines two separate, but potentially entwined ideas: Mass Effect, and Superman. But the story of Superman is not necessarily the same to everyone. This Superman is not quite the same one we expect from comics, nor is he completely weakened by the lack of sunlight or Earth's atmosphere (those these do apply). The intent was never to create a system where one character completely changes the outcome. Rather, I've introduced a ripple effect that begins well before the introduction of Clark Kent. 
> 
> This is the culmination of that ripple.

Heading to Horizon to escape from Freedom’s Progress had been fortuitous, for the moment at least. A week after he left, something had abducted the entire colony, every last man, woman, and child. All humans vanished, though being a human colony and a fairly new one, this wasn’t a huge surprise; what had been was the lack of talk about it. Only reason he knew was the rumors he heard while flying out here. Though, he avoided the news as best as he could. There were enough problems in the verse, no reason to stress over things he had no say in.

Clark avoided trouble like the plague. He never sought recognition or fame, even avoiding most formal establishments in an effort to fly just a little bit more underneath the radar. With the galaxy filled with different types of aliens, such as turians, krogan, and asari, he should have felt accepted, even safe to a degree. But his father taught him that the galaxy wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t ready for them. His father was right.

The other aliens weren’t like him. Clark looked human, sounded human, but he wasn’t human. Only he and his parents knew. As a boy, his head felt like it was on fire all of the time as his eyes and ears took in too much information. By the time he graduated from a university, he had managed to account and control for the increased perception, even to the point of seeing through things. But he wasn’t human. He didn’t know what he was. All he knew was what his parents taught him, and they loved him.

So he planet-hopped, flying job to job, working until something happened, until he had to do something to save others. He couldn’t help it, but even then, if he stayed too long, people began to give him looks. It’s the reason why he left Freedom’s Progress: something happened and he had to get involved.

On Freedom’s Progress, a fire broke out in one of the labs. He had been working in constructing living quarters nearly a mile away, and volunteered to help fight the fire. A little girl went to work with her father and wandered off, which he probably would have too. But then the fire hit, and they couldn’t get to her. No one could.

Except for him.

Bending bars and metal like they were twigs to reach her, he stepped through the flames and smoke. His clothes caught on fire, the heat should be unbearable, the air un-breathable, the terrain unmovable. It would have been for anyone else.

Except for him.

Clark waded in carefully, his eyes burning through the chemicals and smoke, but he concentrating on getting to the girl as quickly as possible. The heat tickled, pulsating and warm against his skin. Walls bent out of the way, his hands crushing the metal underneath his grip. Pushing through what little pain he felt from the heat and the burning metal, charging through the flame and the smoke, he kept moving. The girl’s cries screeched through to him, past the screams for help and of fear by the colonists.

Once he reached her, Clark gave her a reassuring smile. Hands which tore through metal only moments before gently lifted the girl into his arms. Holding her head against his neck, he carried her out of there, swiftly stepping between falling beams and burning walls. Footsteps marked the passing of millisecond – if not shorter - as he moved her toward safety. Once free from the burning lab, he turned back staring at the fire. It flared up, twisting in the night. He walked out, aching and feverish, but relatively unharmed.  
With the girl still in his arms, he began to move toward her family, at a much more sedate pace. His steps measured, his gait sure, but hurried. Hiding taught him to present an image people wanted to see, something that they could handle. Even with biotics and engineers, walking through fire with only minor burns, untouched would have him studied beyond care or civility.

The galaxy just wasn’t ready.

Which lead him here, to Horizon. Another border planet, building itself up, though this time, he had the misfortune to arrive just as the Alliance decided to make kind with the Terminus system colonies.

“Well, look at you.” Clark nearly dropped his omni-tool at the voice. He turned to glance at the Alliance’s representative, Operations Chief Williams. “Didn’t know they grew them like you out here.” He had been working on securing walls of a living unit, hoping to have it finished within the next day or so. It was not labor intensive, and the omni-tool requirements were low (never really had the time or money to play around with one after graduating). Essentially, low-skill, low-pay. Perfect when you are trying to stay hidden.

“Don’t,” Clark said. “I’m from Earth, grew up on a farm.” He tried to give her an easy smile, but he always felt uncomfortable about the attention people gave him. His finished adjusting the omni-tool, letting it work its way through the calculations before grabbing the other tools. Despite technology advancing to faster-than-light travel, sometimes a hammer got the work done just as well.

“What made you want to come out here?” Williams asked. He shrugged his shoulders. Why did people always ask some many questions? Not just humans, but asari, turian, hell even the quarians asked questions about him. At least the krogan were willing to let him be, but they rarely worked in the same areas as he did.

“Just felt like it.” Williams’ glare intensified at the non-answer.

“What’s your name?” Clark held back a sigh, reminding himself she was just doing her job.

“Clark.” He turns back to his work, hoping to end this conversation.

“That your first name? Or last?” With a sigh, he set the hammer down.

“Ma’am, I understand your concern, and if you have any more questions, please direct them to the foreman. Or ask me when I’m off. But I need to get back to work.” He kept reminding himself that she was just doing her job. Something most others around the colony did not enjoy. No one seemed to want the Alliance out here (part of the reason he picked this place) but with rumors of colonies disappearing and geth, the Alliance wanted to keep everyone safe. Something he could relate to.

“You’ll talk when you’re done?” She hesitated, as if trying to decide what to do next.

“Yes, of course,” he gave what he hoped was a comforting smile. He couldn’t offer her much, and it was unlikely that anyone could connect all of the pieces. Or at least, not right away.

“Okay,” Williams nodded, taking a step back. “What time are you done?”

“1700 hours, Earth standard.”

“I’ll meet you at the mess around half an hour later?” Williams didn’t want for a response, leaving Clark to wonder what the hell was going on. Normally, when people were asking questions about himself, about who he was, they were demanding answer, immediately. Williams demanded them too, but seemed willing to wait. Her patience surprised him, as she didn’t seem like the type to wait. She was more of the take charge type, leading men and women into battle.

Clark nearly dropped the hammer as a realization him: She did take charge. She just asked him out on a date. Glancing over his shoulders, he felt a genuine smile rise up. Well, maybe not a date, but it had the potential to be one. It had been a long time since anyone had even bothered to get to know him, and even with weighing the potential harm, maybe talking with someone for fun would be worth it. Besides, there really was nothing in his history - unless people really dug all the way back - to find.

Getting back to work, Clark forgot about the hammer and began to press the bolts in with his thumb. No one was around to notice and definitely quicker in regards to the outcome. At the very least, it would let him finish the job before the bugs finished him. Flicking one away, he settled in. Even with all his enhanced senses, he still missed things.

**I0I**

_Two years since you had lost Shepard._ Ashley thought. _Two years since he died._ Thoughts of her lover, the man who saved her on Virmire, who chose her over Kaiden Alenko, he held her in the dark as they sped toward Illos, consumed her on a daily basis. It was only through a year and a half of therapy, which was still on-going, that she managed to drag herself out of the hole she fell when Shepard left.

One thing her therapist kept reminding her was that Shepard wouldn’t want her to stop living her life. She never intended to fall for another guy, to even look at another man (at least until she saw the tall drink of water working construction), but she could keep serving. It was why she traveled to Horizon in the first place.

The Alliance needed her out here, so she went. She knew the rumors, and read the reports of the attacks on Freedom’s Progress. She wasn’t sure what to believe, but she had to try and make the colonies at least a little safer. Even if the colonies themselves didn’t necessarily want the help. They never forced anything on the colonies, or at least, that was what her commanding officers told her.

Out in the Terminus systems, human colonies formed to get away from the Alliance. They didn’t want the help and believed that they didn’t need it. Most colonies wouldn’t turn away defensive systems though, as the raiders and pirates loved prime targets. Alliance wasn’t looking for anything in return (right now, Ashley always added under her breath).

They just wanted people to be safe.

If that meant the Alliance had an opportunity to be pro-active against the Collectors, then so be it. All for the betterment of the human race.

Now, they just had to get the damn things working.

“Lilith,” Ashley called out. The older woman was in charge of the colony, temporarily the leader until they could the entire thing settled. For the most part, it seemed like she would remain in the role once building finished.

“Hey, we’ve got a bit of a problem.” Ashley matched Lilith, walking besides the other woman.

“Still can’t calibrate the targeting matrix?” She held back her blush at the question. Her original intent for the morning had been to work on that problem, but Clark distracted her enough to only check in. She really did need to know the background of her colonists, if at least to ensure that no one from Cereberus was here. Clark didn’t seem the type, but you never know. She had to be sure. So what if it was over a drink or two?

“Those defense towers are useless if we don’t figure it out.” Ashley said, moving out of the way of another colonist walking toward them. What good did good will do if towers didn’t work? Defense meant nothing without targeting: Give her two good eyes and a scope she’d get the job done. Not everyone was her, and she knew the towers needed the system in order to operate.

She missed the days when she was a ground soldier, a grunt, running from mission to mission. Now, here she was, playing diplomat with a group that barely tolerated her presence it seemed. Most of them at least. Clark appeared to be opening to her, which was progress in it of itself. The man barely said hello to her a week before. Her sisters would be proud of her stubbornness for that one.

“Sorry, Chief. Getting our comm system back online takes priority.” Lilith offered, knowing it wasn’t much. Communication systems were important, almost more. Even if the towers worked, without the system working properly, no signal could be sent for assistance or vengeance.

“Yeah. Okay. Surprised people haven’t tried to blame that one on me too.” It was a common thing to hear around the colony. Pipe burst? Alliance’s fault. Wife left you? Alliance’s fault. She had a dozen complainants filed against the first day she was here. None were substantiated of course, but still, it was the principle. Anything that could go wrong, did go wrong because of the Alliance. Why did they even bother sometimes?

“People out here don’t trust the Alliance. It’s nothing personal.” Ashley shrugged her shoulders. Personal her ass. Of course it was. Not only was she Alliance, but a woman, and a Williams. Didn’t matter what others saw, that was what it came down to. _Well… almost everyone._ She thought as she pictured Clark perched up there, constructing something. Her thoughts dispersed as everyone around her stopped move, turning to stare as something came into view.

“What is that?” A colonist asked. She had no idea. Clouds filled with lightning of something peeked out of them, the crackle adding to the ominous sensation growing in the pit of her stomach. With practice ease, she reached for her assault rifle. Before it even finished unfurling, she had the scope up, peering toward the ship. Not Alliance, not alien…not friendly.

The sky grew a darker hue as what seemed like thousands of thousands of bugs emerged from the cloud. Scream’s filled the air, and Ashley felt her training kick in.  
“Get everyone to the safe houses.” She waved back at Lilith, trying to get her, the leader to cooperate. If she listened, then others would be more likely to as well. “I’ll cover you. Run.” Lilith nodded, before turning toward the safe house. Ashley futilely let out a burst toward the cloud. Screams carried toward them, and she watched people freeze. “Hurry.”

“Ahhh.” As she turned, she watched a bug fly off of Lilith. The older woman continued to move forward and scream, before seeming to freeze. Ashley tried to clench her own terror as she watched Lilith’s eyes try to widen in fear. The bugs grew closer to her and Ashley tried to hold her breath to prevent a scream.

As she blinked her eyes, trying to block out the moment the bugs touched her, she felt something rush into her. Window rushed out of her just as quickly as it rushed around her.

“Ugh,” grunted Ashley. Somehow, she had changed from standing to now lying on the floor. A smooth, even floor in an environment controlled room. They were in the safe house, though she wasn’t sure how safe it was. Few people had managed to make it, though she wondered how she got there herself.

“One second,” said a blur before disappearing in a charge of air. It appeared momentarily before disappearing again…and again… and again. The blur repeated this several times, with the room filling up with both moving and frozen people.

The blur finally stopped moving, giving her a change to get a good look at the owner of the voice. “Clark?”

“So, I bet you have questions.” He offered a sheepish grin. It lasted a moment, but the boyish charm he exuded coupled with his sheer size left her feeling a little weak in her knees. He was a man who had to step in and do the right thing. The same thing that drew her to Shepard drew her to him.

Before she had a chance to even ask questions, Clark’s head whipped toward the door. His gaze was long and hard, glaring at it or maybe even what was behind it? “I’m going to try to get to the defense tower controls.”

“H-h-how do you know about that?” Ashley managed to get out. He was just a civilian, right? How would he know what to? How the hell did he get them here? She struggled to her feet, but Clark’s firm hand gave her the leverage to pull herself up. For some reason, letting her stand on her own, despite saving her, only added to his charm.

“I’d like to explain,” Clark glanced at the door again, inching closer to it, “I really would, but, well, I can help out there. Just keep everyone here.” He motioned with his hands, trying to placate her.

“Hey, wait!” Ashley cried out, only to be met with a rush of air. Again. “he’s going to get himself killed.” She looked over at the console, where people were huddled. Damn the comm systems, they needed the defense towers now.


	2. Horizon Mission

“Garrus, find somewhere high,” Shepard pointed to the mountains and hills that seemed scattered around the colony. “We’ll head out on foot. I want radio contact at all times Zaeed, take rear and I’ll take the lead. Miranda, keep an open scan up. Let’s move out people.” They moved out from the LZ, heading to where they hoped the defense tower was. Even if the system was buggy or not working, remotely running it through the Normandy, and EDI, would allow them to activate system.

The Illusive Man’s curt explanation and demand for their presence at Horizon did not render his decision to help pointless. Shepard wanted to hate that man with every fiber of his body, but the bastard still wanted to save humanity from the Reapers. For now, they were on the same side, and he could only hope that meant the Cerberus members of his crew were on his side as well.

Zaeed Massani was a hired gun, damn good enough to have been a commanding office if he was a member of the Alliance, or even cared to be anything than a cannon fodder. He carried scares that could have been older than the Spectre, but both spent time reminiscing about past battles and scraps. Somehow, being the survivor of Akuze only seemed to raise Zaeed’s view of Shepard. Not because of the glory but because he was a survivor, like the older man. Had he been a younger man, just out of basic, he’d likely be following the man on his mission to kill the bastard that left him for dead. Instead, he convinced Zaeed to be the better man, to let it go, for now, and concentrate on the mission at hand.

Garrus Vakarian stood tall and ready as ever. The turian served with Shepard in the run against Sarian and Sovreign. Coming out victorious against those odds wasn’t easy, and now, Shepard needed all of the help he could get. Having a friend in the corner while in the den of wolves increased his odds, though with this mission there wasn’t much that wouldn’t hurt. One of the best shots he has ever seen, damn good with an omni-tool too. Only issue the turian had now was the traitor who killed his squad. Part of Shepard worried for the day when Garrus would have to make the choice; mostly, he wanted to put two bullets in the guy himself, but then he remembered he was the good guy in this story.

Finally, Miranda Lawson, the sentinel on “loan” from Cerberus. On the books, she was his XO, but sometimes, he felt like she was more his babysitter than anything else. She reported everything back to the Illusive Man as if he were a child who couldn’t tie his own shoes without parental approval. She showed signs of humanity at times, behind the cool exterior of perfection. There was something that bothered him about Miranda, something she wasn’t saying or sharing.

Everyone had their reasons for this mission. Zaeed’s was money. Garrus’s loyalty and belief in the cause. Miranda’s reasons weren’t as transparent, and with an organization like Cerberus, he couldn’t’ trust her, not yet.

 _Head in the game John. Head in the game._ “Mordin, you sure these armor upgrades are going to protect us from the seeker swarms?” Shepard said into his comm, prepping his Eviscerator, an illegal weapon too good to pass up, with disrupter ammo. The shotgun fired serrated metal wedges, instead of chips or pellets, allowing for a tighter spread and longer ranger. The design however, was illegal, which may limited supply. The Illusive Man managed to get a few and Shepard claimed one for himself, finding the weapon He wasn’t sure what to expect against the Collectors, and the extra damage would be worth it. His pistol would be a last resort, and his omni-tool already had the freeze program loaded up, ready to be deployed.

“Certainty impossible. But, in limited numbers, should confuse detection. Make you invisible to swarms. In theory,” Mordin responded. The salarian was the smartest person Shepard new, so the response did not fill him with much confidence. Found working in a clinic on Omega, Mordin talked fast, worked faster, and thought faster than that. It amazing Shepard how quickly the man processed information and then would go still, completely and utterly still. He asked Mordin about it once, and the salarian simply said he was taking a moment of zen. Not sure what he meant by that, but the guy knew his science.

“In theory?” Zaeed asked, looking over from checking his gear. “That sounds promising.”

“No time to worry about it now,” Shepard said. “Keep the comm open. Joker, see if you can find any survivors or track any feeds. Let’s hope we’re not too late.”

Moving quickly, they hustled down the hill, moving between several living units before coming to an opening. At the moment, it was deserted, but the seeker swarms flitted about the area. “Shepard!” He glanced over his shoulder at Miranda, her omni-tool glowing orange. “We’ve got incoming!”

Although obvious, her warning was enough time to duck behind a crate. Zaeed and Miranda followed suit as several Collectors _flew_ in from somewhere. This was a first for him.

“Zaeed! Take them out!” The merc threw a grenade at a group as Shepard tapped the tactical cloak program. As the group burst intoflames, he watched Miranda fire off a warp field toward the survivors.

Immediately, the cloak projected the background onto the foreground, rendering him effectively invisible to natural eyes. He only hoped that the Collectors’ eyes worked off a similar system. Checking his clip, Shepard turned and rushed out of cover.

Miranda lay down cover fire for Zaeed to move forward before following suit herself. Shepard charged ahead, prepping the freeze program as he rounded a crate where several Collectors took cover. Tapping the program, he held out his right arm letting the super-cooled air burst forth in a cone, flash-freezing the air. The program hit several Collectors, slowing their movements enough to reduce the threat or even literally freezing them where they stood. Two pumps of his shotgun and they shattered.

“On your left,” said Zaeed. Something splattered behind him, covering his back.

“Got it,” Miranda said. He looked back at her, lowering her pistol and nodded before diving back into the fray, tactical cloak engaged.

Despite using the cloak, several shots hit is shield, ricocheting off as he stumbled back behind cover. Take a moment to breath, he holstered his shotgun and grabbed the Carnifex, a pistol he picked up on Omega. It too had been loaded with disrupter ammo. Shepard moved out of cover slightly, firing the pistol several times. The collector he aimed at shuddered with each hit before crumpling into electric particles. The heat clip sailed past him as he began to look for his next target.

Miranda had fired several more warps at the barriers of the collectors, leaving most of them defenseless against the onslaught of bullets Zaeed rained down upon them. Shepard took advantage of the chaos to charge forward again, avoiding friendly fire as best as he could. The tactical cloak slipped into place as he turned a corner of a building.

Several collectors stood there, trying to organize some defense. He pumped the shotgun, empting his heat clip, before the collectors saw him. “Clear over here,” he said into his comm. Reloading, he waited for a response from anyone, determining if he needed to load another program into his overheating omni-tool.

Despite the versatility of the devises, too many programs too quickly reduced its functions. Same with biotics. Both were limited in what they could and couldn’t do, forcing them to adapt to situations just like the rest of the world. He had met a few like Jack who seemed to by-pass most of the safety features with no ill effect, but they were dangerous to everyone around them. Hell, Kaiden scared him at times and the man was an L2.

“All clear,” Miranda’s voice came over the comm.

“Head over to my position,” Shepard said. “Check for any survivors on the way, but don’t worry about being thorough.”

“Yes Commander,” Miranda said. Zaeed just grunted, but Shepard figured the man would follow through with the order.

Taking the moment to collect himself, he reloaded his Eviscerator. Prior to his rebirth, his training had been similar to Garrus. Fire from afar and fire fast. Now, he used the cloaking program to rush in where devils fear to tread, not unlike vanguards. His blood rushed through his veins, pounding with every footstep. He felt the pounding still in his ears and against his chest. He felt it echoing, pulsating as he charged forward. More importantly, he felt alive.

Shepard never was a reckless soldier. He followed protocol and orders to the letter, only deviating when those who served underneath him were in danger. It was those deviations that save his ass on Akuze. He knew when to hang back and he knew when to go guns blazing in. Self-preservation kept him alive long enough to winnow down the enemy and keep his soldiers alive. But on Akuze, he needed to focus everything on staying alive himself.

Those instincts were still there, but now, Shepard felt them deadened. He could hear himself screaming to stay back, to take cover, but a larger part of him ignored that voice. Now, he still was effective, still instinctively wanted to live, but he couldn’t seem to stop running in head first, guns blazing. His mind vaguely kept track of where everyone was, calculating distances, vectors, and angles for shots. Before his rebirth, it was second nature to that first and then go in to deal with the situation, whatever it may have been. Now, he shot first, shot again, and when everyone was dead, maybe ask a few questions. Was this the man he was now? Not careless, but reckless?

“Shepard, you better get over here,” Zaeed said. Knocking the thoughts from his head, Shepard holstered his weapon, clipping it to his armor as he headed off to Zaeed. The mercenary stood over the body of something that should have been impossible. Something he had not seen in nearly two years.

“Is that…?” Miranda managed to get out before he could.

“A husk,” Shepard said. The mechanical body lay dead, or deadish, on the ground with its arms and legs limp in impossible positions. Moreover, it did not appear to be placed or dropped, but rather simply there, like it had come with the collectors.

Husks were too dangerous on their own, for any trained soldier. They rambled forward, stumbling like a zombie on speed with arms waving as they tried to reach you. For the most part, you always had enough time to take them out if you were even a half-way decent shot. Hell, Kaiden could barely operate his pistol at times and the soldier had easily destroyed the few attacking him back on Eden Prime. The only time you ever needed to be concerned about husks was when groups of them rushed at you. Like zombie flicks of old, too many and you get overwhelmed. It happened back on Eden Prime and Feros, but here, with only one, no one likely was injured by the damn thing.

“What the hell is a husk doing here?” Zaeed said. He poked the thing with his assault rifle before taking a step back. Shepard smirked at the movement, knowing full well how dangerous they could be.

“Get a scan of it, send it up to Mordin,” Miranda nodded, her omni-tool flaring as she knelt to begin her work. “I’m not sure, but there may be a correlation between the collectors and the husks. Especially since there are no dragon’s teeth here.”

“Dragon’s teeth? What the hell are those?” Zaeed said.

“They were what transformed dead bodies on Eden Prime into husks, presumably,” Miranda said. She had not looked up from her work, continuing on scanning the body for any information.

“Shepard, we’ve got a group heading your way. Six, wait” Garrus said. The report of a shot echoed through the compound, “five heading toward you from the north.”

“Roger,” Shepard said. “We’ll have time to worry about this later, right now, let’s keep moving.”

They rounded the corner, already firing at the squad of Collectors. Caught by surprise, they easily fell in a barrage of metal, fire, and mass fields. No sooner were those down did another group pop up behind them.

Diving for cover, Shepard prepped his shotgun. His heart began to pound in his chest, thundering over the bullets and mayhem. This was what had been missing. The calming thunder of battle, that push towards the edge and the rush of adrenaline he faced with each step. He sent out a quick incendiary program, igniting a collector in flames before Miranda’s warp took it down. His shotgun took out one approaching before Zaeed decimated a group standing too close together with his own flames.

“Fourteen for me,” he said, laughing as he fired off his assault rifle.

“Fifteen,” Garrus chimed as a collector fell from a compound roof. Shepard smirked as he incinerated another collector.

“Do you boys think you can get your head back in the fight?” Miranda said. He shared a look with Zaeed before shaking his head and chuckling.

Soldiers found ways to relax in ways that most civilians would not understand. As an old soldier, Zaeed seemed to revel in the violence, in the fight. He did not go out of his way to start a fight – Lord knows how they managed that – but he would finish anything against him. The man fought with fury belying his age. Raging against the dying of the light, he would not go quickly.

The squad moved forward, continuing to scan and take out stragglers. Despite the steady progress toward the defensive systems, they had yet to find any sign of survivors. Were they too late? The collectors appeared to be fast and efficient, striking quickly without a mess or fuss. Whatever system they used on top of the swarms highlighted their skills and expertise in this arena.

“Dammit,” Shepard whispered as he rounded a corner.

A colonist stood in an awkward pose, his hands raised to protect his face as his body twisted away as if being chased. One leg held the weight of his body, the other caught between protecting himself and running. His face contorted in panic and his eyes were filled with fear. This had to be what the swarm did to people. They saw it on Freedom’s Progress, but here, in person, it was worse. Shepard watched the man’s eyes follow them the squad moved closer. People were trapped, alive and unable to scream or do anything.

His hand began to tremble, and he quickly but quietly holstered his weapon. The air became thicker as he tried to calm himself back down. The world blackened at the edges a bit, but he held it together. A good soldier to the end, he held down his side of the bargain.

“Find something?” Garrus asked over the comm. Shepard nodded, before realizing the man probably couldn’t see them.

“We’ve got a colonist.” He tried to keep his voice steady as the others came up behind him. Miranda walked past him, without noticing, but Zaeed, the man just stopped in front of him for a moment.

“Mordin may be able to come up with an antidote or something,” Miranda said. Repeating the process she conducted with the husk, she began to scan the man.

“Damn scientists,” Zaeed muttered. Shepard couldn’t’ help the smirk. The comment hadn’t been directed at Mordin, but rather at Miranda. The woman who essentially resurrected him seemed to barely understand him now that he was awake. “We need to keep moving.”

“If we don’t take this right now, then we lose an opportunity to develop something to counteract it later. At the very least, it’ll help us here,” Miranda said. She didn’t look up from her work, continuing to transmit the data to the Normandy.

“Does have a point,” Shepard said. He smiled at the glare from Zaeed before nodding his thanks.

“Bloody things going to get us killed.” Zaeed began to move forward, his assault rifle up and scanning for incoming enemies. The man was never one to sit still for too long. He could only stay on the Normandy so long before he had to fight something. Before Grunt, that usually meant Shepard, but now, he and Grunt seemed to be willing to duke it out in the cargo hold. Garrus went from time to time, when he wasn’t calibrating the guns, while Jack seemed to enjoy the violence a little too much. Jacob watched but never fought, choosing to sit on the sidelines with whoever had next.

The only one who didn’t join in on the odd bonding exercise was Miranda. It was part of the reason he wanted to see her in combat more. He knew what everyone was capable of, except for her. Again, she only showed enough for her to get an edge, but never enough for anyone to connect with her.

“We’ve got movement up ahead.” Garrus said, interrupting his thoughts. “Think it’s at the defense tower, but I can’t be sure.” Something flittering ahead caught his eye. Movement where moments before there was none. Another group of collectors was rushing them. Bunkering down, he ready his shotgun and tactical cloak.

“What can you tell?” Shepard asked, motioning for Zaeed. The man took a defensive position ahead of them. Miranda stood, finishing her scan. Readying her pistol, she moved forward herself.

“Don’t know, let me go take a look.”

“Negative, I need you here.” Shepard engaged the cloak before turning and rushing into the fray.

“Saving your ass again,” Garrus said. Shepard felt the bullet rush past him as a collector fell just in front of him. He fired his shotgun once, twice, three times, taking down two more. Diving behind a crate, he coordinated with Miranda to take out collector cloaked in a barrier. The beast staggered backward under the force and several shots from her pistol took it down.

“Assuming control.” Shepard peaked around his crate to watch a collector rise off the ground. Biotic fields moved around it as it began to burst with energy. The sharp pain of a particle rifle pushed him back under cover.

“Miranda, Zaeed, concentrate on him!” Shepard yelled over the flurry of gunfire and energy.

Warping gravitons and grenades danced in the air momentarily as both hit the ascended collector. They had taken whole groups out with that move, bursting them into crippling flames.

The collector barely even stumbled as it kept firing forward. Zaeed ran forward, taking out a collector just to his left before ducking the same crate Shepard was hiding behind. Miranda stood back, a hail of bullets preventing her from moving forward.

“Garrus, any time now,” Shepard said. There was silence over the comm for a moment before the sound of something swiftly passing through something rigid into something soft filled the air.

“Kid’s a damn good shot,” Zaeed said. Shepard nodded, popping up to fire off several rounds with his pistol before dropping down again. He managed to hit a few of them, but not enough to drop another one.

The glowing collector kept moving forward as more collectors flew into the area. They concentrated their fire on the crates, attempting to break them apart and force the squad into the open. It was working too. Shepard felt the pressure mounting as he counted his clips. Several particle rifles fired at him as he scrolled through omni-tool, preparing his tactic cloak.

“I’m almost out.” Miranda said over the comm.

“Okay, prepare another Warp and shove it up that collector’s ass.” He nodded at Zaeed. “Follow it up with a grenade. If that doesn’t do it, fill it with lead.”

They followed his order as the cloak covered him. His blood rushed, his feet pounded as he charged forward to a group of collectors. Flash-freezing the air, he fired off several disruptor rounds, killing them quickly. Shots began to ring around him and particle rifles pulsated evenly against his shield. The heat of the beam nearly pushed him back behind a crate before he could get his tactical cloak up. He moved as quickly as he could, the beam passing by him easily.

“Dammit Shepard, take it easy.” Garrus said. A shot took down the assassin with the particle rifle.

Miranda’s warp did the job, effectively reducing the barrier on the glowing collector to nothing. In waves of purple and light, the collector stumbled backward. Before it even had a chance to collect itself, Zaeed had bombarded it with set of grenades, lighting it up in even more in reds and oranges. Strangled screams drowned out the gunfire and everything stopped as they watched the collector dissolve into nothingness.

Shepard barely had time to respond as his shield dropped. It was his turn to stumble backward as the bullets stopped against his armor. He felt the pressure of each shot, of each punch to the gut. If his heart pounded in his head earlier, now he felt the pain of each thud and each step. Irrelevant images flashed against his mind. Raising his gun to fire one last time, one last hurrah of his failed suicide attempt that never really started, he never got a chance to fire it. Something large and painful rushed into him.

“Ugh.” Shepard grunted and forced his eyes open.

“We’re going to have a talk after this Shepard,” Zaeed said. He applied a medi-gel to the commander, letting the man recover his breath.

“Sure, no problem,” Shepard said. He took the shotgun Zaeed held out.

“Enemies are down.” Miranda’s voice came in through the comm. Shepard couldn’t help breathe a sigh of relief.

This had been the first time he had faced that elephant again. The rush was amazing as it always was, but in those final moments the flashes gave him a sense of peace. He saw his life before the Normandy SR-1 was destroyed, before he was reborn in this life that wasn’t really his own. He saw the moments that gave that life meaning, and he wished that he could still have those moments. All he had left was the rush of battle.

“Shepard, you okay?” Of course Garrus saw it.

“Yeah, Zaeed pulled my ass out of the fire.” Miranda came up to them, nearly glaring at him. “Don’t worry, the merc saved the merchandise.”

“Shepard, that –“

“The defense tower appears to be ready to be activated,” EDI said, interrupting anything Miranda may have offered on the subject of his almost untimely demise.

“Sir, we should start scanning for survivors,” Miranda said. Both of the men stared at her for a moment, surprised at her suggestion. Typically, she had only been about the mission. This was the first time she spoke out about something beyond the parameters the Illusive Man set for them. Unfazed by their response, she continued: “If they managed to get the towers working, then others are likely still alive and active.” Zaeed shrugged, choosing to keep his opinion to himself for once.

“She’s right,” Shepard said. “The towers weren't active before, and now, we have an opportunity to take that ship out.” Miranda simply nodded, reloading her clip from several the collectors had left behind. Zaeed followed her, picking several up before depositing them in caches in his armor.

“Will do Commander,” Joker said. Before Shepard even had a chance to order them to start bypassing the door, Garrus chimed in again.

“Shepard, that commotion I told you about up ahead? It’s getting worse,” Garrus said.

“We’re tracking it as well, Commander,” EDI said. “It appears to be centered on a remote activation array for the towers.”

“Alright, we’re heading there right now. Let’s hope its friendlies at the site,” Shepard said. Slamming his hand against the door, the program to bypass began without a word. His omni-tool whirled and buzzed. The program was designed to do the work which two years ago he had to do by hand through omni-gel. Suddenly waking up in the future wasn’t completely a waste if it meant no more shocks to the system because he messed up the damn codes. This way seemed like cheating, but he could live with it.

“Garrus, move ahead, but stay within comm range. Do not engage anyone until we get there.” The door opened to a garage, filled with crates and cargo. Shepard entered first, with Zaeed and Miranda following quickly. A transport sat off to the side with tools scattered around the floor. Boxes overturned and contains flung toward the exit. Once completely inside, the door slammed shut, pressurized seals engaging with a hiss.

“Figured we find someone here, with those seals,” Zaeed said. Something fell to the ground, clattering against the metal floor.

“Company,” Shepard said. They spun toward the source of the noise, their weapons trained to fire at will. “Get out here. Now!” A man peaked out from behind one of the crates, staring at them. Lowering his weapon, Shepard took a step back. No use in frightening civilizans anymore than he had to. At least for the moment. The man stepped out from behind the crate, stumbling slightly and shaking with fear. He watched their guns, watching them before moving further into the open.

“You’re…you’re human. What are you doing here? You’ll lead them right here.” The man said.

“Calm down.” Shepard said. “If they wanted in here, you’d be dead or taken already.” He holstered his weapon, signaling for his squadmates to do the same. “It’s hard to hide from the Collectors.”

“Those things are Collectors? You mean… they’re real? I thought they were just made up. You know…propaganda. To keep us in Alliance Space.” The man struggled to talk. Shepard felt for him. Watching your colony get attacked and finding yourself as the only survivor, the only person to get out it alive was devastating. He gave the man his moment, letting he try to recover. “No! They got Lilith. I saw her go down. They got near everyone.”

“Who are you? What’s your name?” Shepard asked. The man shook his head, and turned toward them, as if finally noticing the trained men and woman in the room.

“Name’s Delan. Head mechanic. I came down to check on the main grid after we lost our comm signals.” He paused, running his hand over his face. "then I heard screaming.” The man waved his hand around. He paced frantically, as if trying to calm himself down. “I looked outside and there was swarms of bugs. Everyone they touched just froze. Standing there.

“Damn it – it’s the Alliance’s fault.” Shepard nearly groaned at the tangent. The Alliance being blamed for something outside of their control? Real shocker. “They stationed that Chief Williams here and built those defense towers. It made us a target!” _Chief Williams was here?_ Shepard felt his heart stop at the thought. He hadn’t even managed to get back to the Citadel and purposely avoided Alliance space since his rebirth. He refused to let himself ask any Cerberus member about what the Alliance had been up to. Nothing mattered except the mission. It was the only way he could handle this new life…this new galaxy. Everything else was distracting until he could get his head above water long enough to breath. Now certainly wasn’t the time to breathe though. He still had a job to finish here. He’d worry about Ash when he had a chance to come up for air.

“Someone figured it out already, and we’re heading there to see if we can either help or get it started if they failed,” Shepard said. Odds were in his favor that the force ahead of them was working with them, at least for the moment. It could be the Alliance. If it was, how could Cerberus say the Alliance wasn’t working toward a solution if there was a force that could take on the Collectors like they were? No matter what happens, new questions were going to be asked today. Hopefully, some of those answers would let him hang onto his old life for a little bit longer.

“Someone else made it out alive?” Delan asked. “How? Those things…the Collectors came out of nowhere.” Shepard shook his head, trying to figure out how this man could be that stupid or that naïve. Probably some combination of the two.

“Well, apparently not everyone is a coward like you,” Zaeed snapped. The man had no use for cowards. Invalids and children, he could handle it seemed. But cowards? It was the old soldier in Zaeed. Shepard felt the same to a degree, but he had never seen the merc like this before.

“What am I supposed to do? I’m just a mechanic.”

“You could have grabbed some of them, done something,” said Zaeed. He walked forward, further intimidating the guy. Miranda looked over at Shepard, silently asking him to stop Zaeed.

“A worse fate than what you have planned for him is knowing he could have save them, if he just stood up,” Shepard said. “So go run and hide again, we’ll take it from here.”

“Yeah…yeah…” Delan said. His voice paused and dropped off as he shuffled back to his hiding spot.

“You certainly know how to hit the weakspots,” Zaeed said.

“Was that necessary?” Miranda asked, glaring at him. It was the second time her humanity showed, surprising him again. “He’s a civilian.”

“Against the collectors, none of us are.” Zaeed looked down at his rifle. “We’re all each other got, and we’ve got to stand with each other.”

“You’re both right,” Shepard said. They stared at him. He began to reload a heat clip into shotgun as he spoke. “We need all the help we can get, but sometimes, we have to let civilians hide and we need to step up. We hide and we die.” Miranda looked away, at that, before nodding. “We get shot, we get up. We get blown up, we get up. No matter what happens, we get up. Now, today, that doesn’t matter because it seems we’ve got some help, but him-” Shepard pointed back at the nearly defeated form of Delan “- he is why we get back up. Not the people who support us, they will stand with us. Not the people who are afraid, they will know we will be there for them. No, we stand for people who hate us, because they need us the most. They don’t know we’re coming. They don’t want us and shut us out. But we go there, we go to the ends of the galaxy for people that hate us.  
“Cerberus knows that the best, right?” He waved at Miranda. “But it doesn’t matter. We get up, we stand up, and we fight. It’s why I stood back up when I was brought back.” He slammed the clip into place. Moving toward the door, he looked back at Delan. “I stand back up because it’s all I have left.” He slammed his hand against the door, bypassing the lock. “Come on, someone else is standing and we can’t leave them alone.”

They followed him out of the garage. He was a survivor. He kept standing back up with every shot and every scrape. Sometimes people propped him up, and sometimes he propped others up. But he got back up. Even with the pounding of blood in his ears and the thundering echo of his heart. He stood back up.

“Shepard, it’s getting worse at the tower controls,” Garrus said. Shepard wondered if the Garrus heard him, but it didn’t matter. The turian already went through hell with him.

Once more into the breach. “Limited resistance before the controls. I think – DUCK!”

Immediately, all three of them did. Zaeed moved behind a crate, shoving Miranda with him. Shepard slid forward, watching as something flew toward them faster and faster it before slammed into the garage door. The object crunched under the force of the collusion with the door. It nearly was an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force, but this force met an object that wouldn’t move. Pre-fabbed buildings they may be, but they were designed to withstand the force of a Cain slug.

“Son of a…” Zaeed said, poking his head out from behind the crate.

A large dent centered on the door hung above the crumpled drone. Its body was bent and broken. Unlike other collectors they killed, this one did not disintegrate in front of their eyes. It lay there, beaten by some force strong enough to propel it into the door. Shepard stared it, trying to figure out what could have done it. Most biotics he knew could definitely make a dent up close, say within several yards. But this looked like it was toss clear across the colony. What type of weapon could do that to someone? A Cain maybe, but still the distance didn’t make sense. He didn’t think the colonists were hiding anything, but thinking back to Novaria, anything was possible. Hopefully, there wasn’t a plant monster hiding behind the colony this time. But given the way his luck was, something extraordinary was a part of the colony. That much he knew.

Miranda looked shocked, still kneeling behind the crate. So, whatever weapon was used was not something she – and by some extent, Cerberus – knew about. She seemed to be taking it, trying to memorize what had happened and the resulting damage. Zaeed just got up from his defensive position, and much like his earlier response to the husk, he poked the collector with his assault rifle.

“Well, I bet that coward really pissed his pants now,” Zaeed said. He chuckled loudly as he turned toward Shepard.

“Disgusting.” Miranda shook her head as she stood. Shepard covertly pointed at Zaeed then the collector. Her typical blank face response stared back at him, leaving him without an answer.

“Okay, so that completely wiped out my motivational speech,” Shepard said. “Garrus, you catch the direction it came from?”

“From the access point, you need to head over there now.” Garrus said. He sounded out of breath, panting heavily. “I’m heading down now, but you’ll get there before me.”

“Okay, let’s move out,” Shepard said. Activating his omni-tool, the map function quickly took over, directing him toward the access point they needed. He took off in a sprint, his legs pounding against uneven ground. He hoped Miranda and Zaeed followed him at the same pass, as he certainly didn’t want to arrive without his squad. Garrus could take care of himself for the moment and seemed to be doing just fine.

As he ran, he saw other crumped collector bodies decorating the grounds. Dents in the pre-fabbed building echoed the one that nearly hit them. Burn marks scattered the area sporadically, as if someone randomly fired a gun and missed – repeatedly. The fight that came through here looked devastating for the collectors. How the colonists managed to throw the collector was beyond him, but someone stood up against the collectors. Now, Shepard had to survive long enough to stand with them.

Reaching another door, Shepard prepped a bypass program. Miranda and Zaeed apparently were able to keep up but both were slightly out of breath. He couldn’t help but wonder what else Miranda changed in him when she rebuilt him. He felt cold and tired, but not from the running or the fighting. The fatigue was common for soldiers fighting too long. He felt it after Akuze and after Illos. Both times he just wanted to sleep forever and curl up in the warmth of something. For Akuze, it had been a bottle of the best stuff he could buy and locking his room up for a week. For Illos, Ashley had been his balm of serenity. What did he have now?

“Stick together,” Shepard said. The door opened, finally showing the source of the resistance and likely weapon which threw the collector at them.

Shepard knew he should raise his weapon in defense, to duck behind a crate. Zaeed and Miranda weren’t much better, considering that Zaeed swearing up a storm. But he stared in shock for a moment at the sight before him.

Collectors stood behind crates and cover, firing at the source of the resistance. The fire was directed away from the squad and they hadn’t seen them arrive yet. But that seemed unlikely for the moment. The resistance was a man, one man alone without a gun, without armor, without anything. Except a large piece of metal he was using as a shield, deflecting a pulse rifle from an assassin collector.

“Give him some cover fire!” Shepard said. He raised his pistol, firing several shots off at a collector. It dropped quickly and he moved further into area. Miranda overloaded a set of husks as they climbed over a retaining wall while Zaeed laid down enough cover-fire to empty at least two clips.

The man swung the metal sheet, taking out several husks ambling toward him. As they got closer, Shepard could see burn marks and bruises against the man’s skin, but no cuts. A series of shots hit him, causing the man to stumble and fall to his knees momentarily before swinging the metal sheet to send a collector flying off. How was this man standing? Shepard watched as several collectors fired on the man’s open back. The man dropped the metal sheet and stumbled forward from the force, but otherwise did not appear too affected by the shots. The man picked up another scrap of metal and swinging at the group firing on him, grunting in pain as a particle beam burned into him before Miranda took out the assassin.

Shepard moved toward the tower array, hoping to get it going while the man fought. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the man kept standing, kept fighting against the collectors without any weapons and with the strength and endurance that likely surpassed a krogan. No wonder a collector had landed near them, given the force of his swings.

“Let’s see if we can get this going,” Shepard said to himself. Omni-tool ready, he began to scan the systems. “EDI, how long?” Looking up, he watched a group of collectors land just on the other side of the array. Zaeed moved off to give the man some breathing room (moderately succeeding) while Miranda worked hard to limit the number of husks arrive into the area.

“It appears that array needs to realign for targeting. I have already begun the process, Commander.”

“How long?” Shepard repeated. He snap freezed a collector that had moved too close before slamming his pistol through its shell. The collector shattered into pieces.

“Five minutes.”

“We may not have that long.” Miranda said. She had backed up toward him, forced to retreat against the onslaught of husks. She had switched from her pistol to her submachine gun, a M-4 Shuriken. It lacked the stopping power of her heavy pistol and Shepard avoided using one as much as he could. If she was using that she was low on clips, then it couldn’t be good.

There was a pause in communication. “I’ll work faster.” Shepard smirked at EDI’s comment. Despite being an AI, the ship’s computer seemed to be developing a bit of an attitude. Likely spending way too much time talking with Joker.

“Hi.” Only reason Shepard hadn’t jumped was they were in the middle of battle. Despite the seriousness of the battle, the man’s tone seemed light and friendly. Somehow, the man had moved from one side of the battlefield to the other, now defending them as Shepard tried to access the tower defense. The man held a sheet of metal up, providing them limited cover. “Thanks for showing up.”

“How the hell are you still standing?” Zaeed said. He had slid underneath the metal cover. His assault rifle scrapped against the ground, sparks mixing with the flames of the barrel.

The man shrugged, his feet sliding backward under the force of the firing collectors. He was breathing heavily, shoulders slumping under the straining. “Thanks for showing up.” He grunted. “Don’t know – ugh - how much more I could take.” The burns looked serious and his body purpled under the strain of the shots. How was he still standing and not a bloody mess on the group.

“Not done quite yet.” Shepard said.

“Commander, I’m tracking a large object moving towards you.” EDI chimed in through their comms.

“I see it,” The man had turned, looking at metal sheet.

“See what?” Shepard asked. He removed his shotgun, reading a clip before tossing one to Miranda. Zaeed seemed fine firing away through a gap the man had left them.  
Shepard got his answer as the ground shoot and a loud, angry screech pierced through the sounds of battle. The man swung the sheet, knowing down a group of advancing husks before throwing it at the source of the screech: a large bug. Where the collectors looked humanoid, this thing looked like a giant flea. Six legs held up its enormous body and biotic fields flickered about it. Its body looked like an unholy meld of husks, created by an angry child to smite its imaginary enemies. Four eyes stared down at them, glowing an incandescent purple as the eyes tracked them. The sheet of metal thrown at it was blasted into nothing by those same eyes as they fired a particle beam.  
They all immediate ducked for cover as the beast fired. Miranda taking it behind the wreckage of a building while Zaeed bunkered down behind some crates left in the open. Shepard crouched behind the array tower as best as he could. He needed to stay close to the controls, but it left him wide open. The man hid near him, glancing at the bug before looking at them.

More collectors and husks had arrived, flooding the area. Zaeed’s grenade burst into an inferno, taking down several, but those numbers quickly were replaced. Shepard fired his shotgun at the one closest to him before turning back toward the large creature barreling down toward him.

Firing off several rounds, Shepard moved as another set of beams fired at him. He vaguely heard Miranda and Zaeed firing as he dove behind another crate. The particle beams ripped apart the cover he had just stood behind. Leaning out of cover, he watched as their shots bounced harmless off what had to be the strongest barrier he had ever seen. Miranda’s warp did not even put a dent in it, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

Shepard executed his incendiary program, the shot flying off toward it. The program burst against the barrier, lighting it up slightly before dissipating. Swearing under his breath, he suddenly wished he had his rifle again, taking pot shots and ducking behind cover. The rush of battle dulled his hearing as he readied his tactical program to charge out of cover.

“I…I’ll try and hold it off.” Shepard felt the plan pushed away at the statement. He turned toward the man, who had moved from his original cover to one near him. Again, Shepard hadn’t heard him move, but given the chaos the battle had now become, he wasn’t surprised.

“With what?” Shepard asked. He moved out of cover slightly, firing several times and emptying his clip on his shotgun before ducking back. The shots broke against the barrier of the creature, but the barrier itself seemed to shudder and fall as he hid again.

“I’ll think of something,” the man said. He looked at his fists for a moment, before looking at the creature. The barrier that had fallen only moments before was now back up. “Look, it’ll buy you some time. Just get those defense towers up.”

“If you survive this, you’ve got a lot of questions to answer,” Shepard said. The man shrugged, smiling at the statement. Despite the severity of the situation and the chaos around them, there was a calm to the man, a surety exuding from him as he stood up after another shot from the creature passed.

“Commander, thirty seconds.” EDI’s voice knocked Shepard back to reality. Whatever the mad man needed to do, he was going to be giving them the time to save the colony.  
Initiating his tactical cloak, Shepard stood before running back toward the defense tower controls. Just as before, he felt the rush of battle move through his as bullets hit his shield and the others continued to fight. He caught a glimpse of the man picking up a large shard of the crate as a particle beam burned into his side.

Shepard could see the burning flesh as he reached the controls. Despite the earlier blast, the controls themselves looked relatively unharmed. He said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods of war for the small favors. His cloak dropped suddenly and he fell to the ground immediately. A particle beam passed over him, the heat pulsating the air as it moved. Heat he felt through the thermal wear of his armor.

Standing back up, Shepard began to work the controls, vaguely aware of Miranda and Zaeed protecting him as best as they could. Bullets still passed through and hit his now regenerated shield, but for the most part, he barely felt them. Miranda fell, her shield down and he watched her take a shot against her armor. Absently tapping his omni-tool, he sent medi-gel remotely to her own, the program hopefully stabilizing her enough to survive, if not get back up when this was over. His hands worked quickly, his omni-tool quicker, as he tried to establish a link with the Normandy and the towers. Glancing up, he watched the man bat away a collector and take another series of blows to the back. He took the collectors down, even as he stumbled under the onslaught of the attacks against him. Shepard’s fingers kept going, taking advantage of the moment, flying over the controls before suddenly –

“YES!” Shepard grabbed his shotgun and fired a round a collector who had tried to sneak up on him. With his own fired shot, the defense towers fired. The echoing boom of that first shot as it left the cannons filled the colony. The collector fell and Shepard watched as the cannon’s aim was true, striking the ship. Letting loose another cry of success, he fired his shotgun again, finally finding some hope in the situation that only minutes before seemed doomed.

It quickly was replaced by the angry cries of the creature as it lined up another shot from its own particle beams. Shepard turned toward it, his eyes searching desperately for some type of cover in the mangled area. The barrier may have dropped from around it, but the creature still appeared angry and dangerous enough. Shepard raised his shotgun in an insane attempt to take it down before it could get him.

“Arrrrgggh!” The man appeared from a pile of collectors, blood now dripping from several wound and burns as he leapt at the creature. The large shard of metal he had been holding early still gripped in his hands. He had left the ground, flying toward the creature as it prepared to fire at Shepard. Zaeed moved toward Miranda who struggled to get back up, both unaware of the creature’s intent to kill him and them. Shepard watched in what had to be slow motion, as time crawled forward.

As the pulse of the particle beams gathered in the creature’s eyes, Shepard watched the man land against the creature, some thirty feet in the air. The large metal shard forced through the creature. The pulsating purple grew brighter and brighter, as the man and the creature disappeared in the flash of what was now white light. A moment of silence and then… the pulsating beam violently exploded outward, blasting in all directions.

The explosion pushed Shepard back several feet, but he managed to stay standing. Zaeed covered Miranda’s injured form from the blast. Wind roared past him as the shockwave passed. He tried to cover his ears against the ungodly sound of the blast, struggling to stay standing through all of it. Something flew past, what, he wasn’t sure. The white light of the blast had blinded him, the wind and sound deafening him. For now, all he could hope for was the enemy dead and his squad still standing.  
“-mmander, do you copy!” Shepard’s ears finally stopped ring just as his vision began to clear.

“Repeat that.” Shepard stumbled toward the forms of Zaeed and Miranda. In the distance, he watched as the collector’s ship disappeared. They had wanted the colonists, and they had gotten them. Probably not all of them, but enough for whatever they wanted.

“Commander, is everyone alright?” EDI asked. He knelt beside them, checking for a pulse first on Miranda and thankfully finding one. Zaeed groaned by the time he had found Miranda’s pulse.

“We’re fine. Garrus?” He had almost forgotten about his friend, but with the battle over.

“Here Shepard.” He turned toward the source of the voice. Garrus crawled over a large pile of debris that had block what had been the entrance to the area. “Seems you had quite the party without me.”

“I really don’t see how this was a party,” Miranda said. Shepard moved to help her to her feet, but she waved off his hand. A cut bleed down from her forehead and bruises covered her face. Zaeed didn’t look much better, but given that his armor covered more, Shepard probably wouldn’t know how bad it was until he ordered the merc to go to the infirmary. He wondered how badly he looked to the others.

“Next time you get into a fight, I want in,” Garrus said.

“Next time we fight one of those, it’s all yours,” Shepard waved toward the decimated remains of creature. _Shit._ “Where is he?”

“I thought he got vaporized along with the rest of them,” Zaeed said. Shepard turned, trying to orient himself from the blast. If the creature dropped, then what flew past him?

“Zaeed, Garrus, start search. Spread out and see if you can find him.” Shepard said. “Miranda, take it easy. We’ve got a moment.”

“Shepard, I’m -” Miranda started, but Shepard cut her off.

“You are injured, but that doesn’t mean you stop working. Coordinate with EDI on locating any survivors and see if we can got any data off the battle.” He walked off, toward a pile of rubble.

Shepard’s body ached with each step. The battle was over, and he felt exhausted. He just wanted to sleep, to fall on a bed somewhere and pass out for the next few hours. Scars from the rebirth pulled, leaving him in even more pain than normally.

“Commander, we’ve located a safe house. It appears that a group of them are heading your way.” EDI communicated with them.

“Great, well, maybe Ash has an idea who that man was,” Shepard muttered. His omni-tool flared as he scanned the rubble. There were no signs of life, or breathing or anything. Sighing he moved to the next one. “Anything?”

“Nothing yet,” Garrus said.

“Do you really think we’re going to find him?” Zaeed asked. He stood several yards away, crouching over a pile.

“We’ve got to try. Would you leave a man behind?” Shepard walked to the next one. “He gave his life for us, the least we can do is find the body.” Garrus stood over a pile, staring at it as Zaeed got back to work.

“Shepard, you better come over here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> This story is cross-published with fanfiction.net/ under the account name gwmclintock9.
> 
> Superman and related information is owned by Warner Bros, published by DC Comics, and created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster.
> 
> Mass Effect and related information is published by Electronic Arts, and created by Bioware.
> 
> The combination of ideas and the implementation of information currently are mine. As of right now, the alternative universe I've created here for both is not open to other writers, but it is open to artists.
> 
> Comments and criticism are welcome.
> 
> Good night and good luck.


	3. Chapter Three: Aid upon the Normandy

As soon as they received word that the defense towers were up and running, Ashley took off toward them. She wasn’t sure how Clark managed to retrieve so many people, including her, so quickly, but he had saved them and rushed off like a fool on his own. She convinced the colonists to work on getting the defense tower up first, and then the communication system. They managed to get the system operational, but needed someone to activate it. The echoing cannons in the distance let them know someone had.

Now, she was running through the colony, trying to get the defense array to see how Clark managed to do it. Scattered debris made it difficult to maneuver, forcing her to slow down her pace. Her assault rifle prepped in case of any attacks, but somehow, the area was clear.

As she approached a door, she found herself stopped by the sheer amount of damage left behind. Whatever had attacked them had nearly destroyed the colony in the process. Pushing scraps away, she began to climb over the debris. She spotted several figures moving, one woman and two men. A turian stood with his back to her, but once he spoke, she recognized him.

“Nothing yet.” Garrus was here? Last Ashley had heard he was on Omega, doing some freelance work. What’s he doing here? The turian looked older, certainly, but the scar on his face was new.

“Do you really think we’re going to find him?” The older man asked. Something in her gut told her they were talking about Clark. She struggled over another crate, trying to get to them. They hadn’t found him? Why not? What happened?

“We’ve got to try. Would you leave a man behind?” She stumbled over the crate, falling down. She stifled her cry, both in shock and pain. That voice had haunted her for over two years. Shepard. He was alive. He was here. “He gave his life for us, the least we can do is find the body.” Ashley shook her head, trying to block out thoughts. Clark was dead? The man who saved her, and the colony, died to save Shepard, the man she loved? Groaning, she pushed herself upright. She was going to say her goodbyes this time properly.

“Shepard, you better come over here.” Garrus stood with his back to them. Shepard and the older man moved toward Garrus while the woman just looked up from where she was sitting. She likely was injured in whatever had caused all this damage.

Shepard immediately began to throw debris off the pile. Garrus and the older man began to help, the pile growing smaller as they worked.

“Damn, I can’t believe it,” the old man said.

“Normandy, emergency landing, as close to my position as possible. Tell Chakwas to prepare the med-bay.” Shepard said into his comm. Ashley broke into a sprint, moving toward them. Her footsteps pounding along the ground gave her away and she stopped just shy of the pile, bypassing everyone. “Ash…” Shepard spoke her name with reverence.

“What the hell did you do Clark?” She knelt next to the body of a broken man. Literally.

Clark lay on the ground, more of a bruise and burn than human at this point. A broken bone protruded from his right arm, bleeding profusely. She immediately dropped to her knees, and tried to set it. Pushing with everything in her, she couldn’t move the bone. Leaning back, blood on her hands, she stared at them and then at him. What the hell was he?

“Move miss, let me try,” the older man said. Vaguely, she heard the sounds of the Normandy – how was that ship still operational? – landing nearby. She stumbled backward as the man took her spot, kneeling over Clark.

“Ash…I…” Shepard voice failed him again. She felt his eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at Clark.

“What are your bones made of?” The man seemed to be struggling to set the bone as well.

“I need you to move, Mister Massani.” Ashely turned to see Dr. Chakwas standing with several field medics behind her. The man obliged, letting the medics shift Clark from the ground onto a stretcher. “Chief Williams. I wish we could have met again under better circumstances.” Applied medi-gel began to treat the superficial wounds as bruises and burns began to fade away. It couldn’t do much to the broken bones until they were set.

“Ma’am.” Ashley said, finally moving her eyes away from Clark. Her training kicked in as she responded. Well, more of her mother’s advice than anything else. Otherwise, she’d likely have decked Shepard. Shaking her head, Ashley moved into soldier mode. “Where are you taking him?”

“Onto the Normandy, we should be able to help him there,” Chakwas said. The woman moved and Ashley finally caught a glimpse of the new Normandy.

“No.” Ashley pulled her pistol, pointing it at them. She couldn’t let them take Clark. “He’s not going with Cerberus.”

“Ash, it’s okay,” Shepard spoke. She turned toward him, pointing her pistol.

“It’s okay. It’s okay?” Her voice broke as she tried to understand the man in front her. This was not the man she traveled to hell and back with. This man worked for Cerberus. He worked for terrorists. “You’re working for them, Shepard. THEM!”

“Ash, they’re just going to help him.” Garrus stepped in front of her, the pistol now pointed at his chest.

“Chief Williams, if it will make you feel better, you can come with us.” She spun around, facing the woman who seemed to be barely holding herself up. Her attention was taken away by Shepard, which seemed like par for her life.

“We’ll make sure he’s okay Ash.” Shepard stepped out from around Garrus. He motioned toward Chakwas and her team. Ashley stood still, watching as Clark got carried up the ramp and onto the ship.

“How can I trust you? You’re with Cerberus.” Ashley let her pistol drop, trying to regain control of herself. This was not how she expected to see Shepard again.

“Just give me a chance to explain,” Shepard said. She nodded, not looking at him. At the moment, the life she had carefully constructed crashed with the life Shepard left in the wake of his death.

“If he makes it, then okay,” Ashley holstered her weapon, “otherwise, all bets are off.” She walked up the ramp, following the trail the medics left. Behind her, she heard Garrus attempting to comfort Shepard. Well, where was her comfort when she needed it?

She rode the elevator up in silence. She took several deep breaths to wrangle her emotions back under control. There were so many things she didn’t understand at the moment. She couldn’t grasp onto anything, with so many things going wrong. Everything had changed, but somehow, nothing had.

Shepard was alive, breathing in front of her. And her reaction was to pull her weapon on him? She had always thought she’d hug him and never let go, give into those ‘feminine’ emotions Joker joked about her never having. Instead, she played into everything everyone had ever said about her: A hothead female who couldn’t handle command. Living up to that family curse again, huh Williams? She pounded her first against the wall of the elevator. Why did it have to be Cerberus? There were just too many questions and not enough answers.

The elevator opened on what she hoped was the crew deck. If this was a recreation of the Normandy SR-1, then the med-bay should be on this level. Keeping her hand off her pistol, she stepped off the elevator with a calm she didn’t have. She glared at a crewman who scurried of somewhere. At least she still could make the appearance of the badass.

“Set his arm!” Ashley had never heard Chakwas loss her cool in the operating theatre, but she could hear that yell even outside of the bay. Entering the med-bay, she watched as Chakwas worked with a salarian and a set of nurses.

“Resisting all attempts. Dense bone? No. Maybe. Have to analyze his structure more.” The salarian spoke quickly, his sentences truncated.

“Analyze it on your own time, Mordin. We need to set the bone or he’s going to bleed out.” Chakwas was wrapping the arm in a tourniquet as a stop gap. Ashley felt like someone punched her in the gut.

“Pressure not sufficient. Perhaps a biotic field? Strong enough to warp metal. May be sufficient,” Mordin said.

“I’ll try.” Ashley turned to look at the woman who had somehow snuck up on her. This was the first chance she had to look at her, and she felt the pit of her stomach drop.

The woman stood several inches above her and looked like she had been carved from stone or something. Her body looked perfect, even with the scraps visible through her cut-up uniform. Even the blood flowing from a head wound managed to add to her perfectness. Not a hair out of place and her tits seemed to be standing perfectly firm without anything. Hell, somehow the woman fought in something that provided absolutely no protection or support. Ashley looked down at her own form, before glaring at Miss Perfect-Tits.

“Are you sure Miss Lawson? You should be in here as well,” Chakwas said. Lawson moved around her, entering the med-bay. Ashley watched as the bio-field formed around her. Of course she was a biotic, was there something that she couldn’t do?

“I’m fine.” The biotic field moved out from the woman’s hands, surrounding Clark’s arm. Ashley watched a perfect vein formed on the woman’s head as she strained to hold the field. For as perfect as the woman was, she hoped that Lawson managed to fix the break.

“Definitely not fine.” Mordin caught Lawson as she fell backward. He guided her over to a table. “Hmm.. Insufficient strength. It may be necessary to use a stronger biotic.” Lawson groaned at this. “Yes. Difficult indeed.”

“Why? What’s so difficult about that?” Ashley asked. Every moment speculating was a moment wasting time. This man could die because he tried to save them, save her.

“Jack is…temperamental.” Mordin said.

“She’ll help out.” Ashley turned to see Shepard pushing a young woman about her height into the med-bay. The woman, presumably Jack, recovered from her stumble and cross her arms defiantly. Her head was close-shaven and tattoos covered just about every area on her body. What little clothes Jack wore seemed to barely cover her. She actually reminded Ashley of a more extreme version of one of her sisters.

“Like hell I will.” Jack grumbled. “Can’t force me to do a fucking thing.” A biotic field seemed to roll off her and lash out at the world. Shepard stepped forward, as if to try and talk with her, convince her to help.

“Please,” Ashley said before Shepard could say or do anything. She stepped up, feeling the field surround her. Jack stared, or rather glared at her for a moment before looking away. The biotic field pulled back, rescinding with a breath as Jack seemed to calm down. The younger woman nodded, agreeing to help out.

Jack stopped next to Clark’s side. The biotic field coalesced into reality as it wrapped around his arm. She strained, just like Lawson did, as she tried to force the bone back into place. The field grew darker and brighter at the same time, flashing against Clark’s pale skin. Grunting, she curled his fingers into fists over Clark’s arm, tightening the field. Ashley watched in shock, holding her breath, as the bone began to move down. Jack swayed before standing back up. The biotic field flashed for a moment before she regained control over it. With a guttural scream, Jack forced the field to constrict enough to force the bone back into place with a loud snap.

Ashley moved to catch Jack as she stumbled backward. “Thanks,” she said to the younger woman. Jack nodded, before shoving herself away from Ashley.

“Don’t say I never did nothing for ya,” Jack muttered, stumbling her way past Shepard. Chakwas and the other medics moved over to Clark’s side.

“What is he?” Chakwas asked. Ashley peaked around one of the medics, surprised to see the broke skin scabbing over. His arm looked slick from all the blood he lost, but somehow, the cut formed from the broken bone looked like it had been healing for at least a month, if not longer.

“I don’t know,” Ashley whispered. She stared at the now healing arm before shaking her head. She had to start acting like an Alliance solider again and she was currently on a terrorist’s vessel. “But none of the data you took from him is staying here.”

“What? Why?” Mordin had jumped up from helping Lawson. Shepard moved further into the med-bay, trying to defuse a situation. Obviously, telling Mordin he couldn’t study something wasn’t a smart thing to say, nor was it polite to demand things from your hosts. Ashley always prided herself on pissing people off though, so it didn’t hurt her too much sticking her neck out.

“Ash, we wouldn’t do anything with it.” Shepard said. “Mordin is the best scientist I know. He’ll be able to figure out this all out.”

“Shepard, I don’t care who you know, you work for Cerberus. And that man is an Alliance citizen,” Ashley pointed at Clark, “who did not - and I highly doubt would - give permission for anyone to do anything to him. The only reason he is even on this ship is because he needed immediate medical attention.” Shepard winced under her words.

“I can’t defend what Cerberus did in the past, but I just…Ash, you know me, you know I wouldn’t be involved with them unless it was important,” Shepard said, trying to argue with her.

“You’re right, I did know you,” Ashley said, taking a step forward toward him. “But that was two years ago. Two years, Shepard. I thought you were dead. We all did.” She paused, trying to find the words. She had memorized dozens of speeches, things she wanted to say to him if he was alive. And now, here he was.

“I would have followed you anywhere. I thought you were gone… I... you were more than our Commander.” Ashley loved him, more than life and more than the corps. Shepard showed her that her life was more important than the next mission, the next battle. He made her feel wanted, loved even. Something no one outside her family ever accomplished. “Why didn’t you try to contact me? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”

“I was out for two years. You moved on with your career and your life.” So that’s it. She wasn’t as important to him as he was to her. She bit her tongue, trying to hold back the tears.

“I moved on, but you keep pulling me back in. And now, we’ve got reports about you and Cerberus. Looks like they were right.” She tried to move on, but the lie was more comforting than telling him she spent more nights with a bottle than was healthy, more nights mourning him than she spent celebrating his life. He was an everything to her. And without him, all she had was the corps and the Alliance. She dove back into them both. “Alliance intel said Cerberus could be behind our missing colonies. We got a tip that this one could be next to get hit.

“I went to Anderson, but he wouldn’t talk. But there were rumors…saying you weren’t…that you were somehow still alive. I could handle that part. You coming back, would have been like you were MIA, but that wasn’t the worst part. No, you were supposedly working for the enemy.”

“Our colonies are disappearing. The Alliance turned their back on them. Cerberus was the only group willing to do anything about it.” Shepard said. His voice sounded haggard. His scars tugged at his face, but behind the pain, behind his blue eyes, she still saw the Shepard she fell in love with. She saw the man who made her believe in more. And that’s what made all of this hurt even more.

“Bullshit!” Ashley spat. “I know what Cerberus is like. You do too. They talk about putting humans first, but at what cost?” Shepard looked away, but she saw his fists tightening as he struggled to control himself. She wished he would show her something, some type of emotion. Anything more than just this robotic, canned speeches and responses he gave. “I wanted to believe that you were alive. I just never…never expected anything like this.” Looking at Clark, she tried to regain control of her emotions. “I’d like an opportunity to contact my superiors. I won’t tell them where I am, but they need to know the colony has been attacked.” She looked at the ground, at the beds, at Clark, Chakwas, even Ms. Perfect-Tits. Anywhere but Shepard.

“I’ll keep an eye on your friend Chief,” Chakwas offered. “His vitals look good and maybe if he wakes up soon, we can get some answers from him.”

“Thank you.” Finally getting herself under control, she looked over at Shepard. He appeared about as healthy as she felt. “You should get some rest Skipper, you’ve got a good crew with you.” He gave her a half-smile, nodding. The conversation was over, but the disagreement would stand. She offered the statement as a truce – agree to disagree. He was doing something he believed in, always had, always will, and one of the things she loved most about him.

“Garrus, mind showing her to a secure comm?” The turian in question nodded, smiling a bit through his scars. She’d have to ask how he got his, but that could happen after she updated Anderson.

“You can use my station,” Lawson said. She held herself up, using the bed for leverage before standing upright. “I can set up the link so that no one will see it. Not even Cerberus.”

“Thank you Miranda,” Shepard said. Wonderful, he was on a first name basis with the walking marble model. She nodded, giving what seemed to pass as a smile to Shepard. Ashley followed her out the door, subtly trying to motion for Garrus to help Shepard. He nodded, giving her a tight smile as she left the med-bay.

“So, where’s your station?” Ashley asked once they were out of the med-bay and in the mess. Glimpsing over to the cook’s area, she had a flash to Kaiden standing there, messing with his gear. She looked away, and tried not to let the pain of the image show on her face.

“Through here,” Lawson motioned to a set of doors. And of course she was his XO. The woman sat behind her desk and began to type out something. Standing up must have been more painful than sitting, as she took her time, using the desk for leverage. Ashley begrudgingly gave her props for working through the pain. “You should be able to send a secure message from this terminal. It will be deleted immediately after being sent, but I’ve included a drop number for whoever needs to contact you to respond.”

“So no one else will see it?” Ashley asked. Lawson nodded, leaning against the door frame as Ashley moved over to the desk.

“There will be no record of it, and if anyone tries to find it, it will appear as junk mail.” Lawson said.

“Thank you,” Ashley managed to get out. Lawson nodded and made to move away, but stopped and stared at her.

“I know you are upset with Shepard, and I know you have a lot to work out,” Lawson said. She paused, as if struggling to find the right words to say. “But he means well, and is always trying to do the right thing.”

“I know,” Ashley slumped against the desk. “I know, which makes it so much harder that he is working for you.”

“He’s not, just taking our money,” Lawson said. Ashley couldn’t help the snort as she tried to hold back her laugh. It definitely sounded like something that Shepard would do. “Cerberus may have made a mistake in bring him back, but the galaxy needed him. Again.” Lawson turned to leave, giving Ashley only a few moments to make up her mind.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was just loud enough to stop Lawson. “For bring him back.” It needed to be said. Whatever happened between the two of them now, if she could find it in herself to love him again, to work through the hurt and pain, she still needed to thank someone who brought him back to her. Even if she wasn’t sure he was hers any more, or she was his.

Lawson looked at her, and nodded her understanding. Ashley leaned back in the chair and tried hard not to glare as Shepard’s perfect XO walked away. That woman even managed to play human better than Ashley felt like being at the moment. She hated having to apologize, and now, with just a few words, felt like maybe she should to Shepard. She hated everything Cerberus stood for, but somehow, she was placed in the position of having to thank them for bring Shepard back.

How the hell was she going to get all this in a short email?

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews and follows so far. I hope you are enjoying this sojourn into the Mass Effect universe. My goal is to attempt to get a chapter posted every other weekend, and I strive to complete goals.

For now, this is heavy on the ME characters, but as the story progresses, we will see more DCU characters coming into the fold.

One thing I like to do is pick actors I think would fit the roles of the characters well. So, I’ve decided to add them at the end of the chapter, especially if I add new characters.  
To date, these are the characters and respective actors who could fulfill the roles (in order of appearance within the story):

Clark Kent - - - - - - - Henry Cavill  
Ashley Williams - - - Sarah Shahi  
John Shepard - - - - - Aaron Eckhart  
Miranda Lawson - - - Yvonne Strahovski  
Zaeed Masini - - - - - Gerard Butler  
Garrus Vakarian - - - Jeremy Renner  
Mordin Solus - - - - - David Tennant  
Dr. Karin Chakwas - Carolyn Seymour  
Jack - - - - - - - - - -Natalie Portman

 


	4. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mission on Horizon, Ashley escorted Clark's battered body onto the Normandy (though not her Normandy). Now, Clark awakes in a strange place with strange people standing over him. And things only go down from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where the fun of writing from Clark's perspective begins. He is an immensely complicated POV, as you have to consider just how powerful he really is. I hope I've done a good job dealing with that. Please let me know what you think and enjoy.

**Chapter Four: Waking Up**  
His body felt heavy (nothing new) and ached like it should have after a long day working on the farm (which was). But even before he had a chance to register the heaviness or the aching was the noise.

His ears shuddered as howling discordance of scraps, rattles, breaths, heartbeats, murmurs, yells, screams, complaints, and whispered endearments pushed past whatever control he possessed. Millions of syllables and noises meshed together into painful reminder of his differences. Everything compressed into a single force against his ear drums, unyielding harder and harder with each of his own thundering heartbeats.

Focus, Clark. His own thoughts mimicking his father’s words pounded inside his head. A slow, deep controlled breath inhaled as he fell back onto thoughts of his father, the only thing he could grasp in the moment behind the agony of the cluttered sound around him.

I’m here for you, son. Listen to me. Listen to my heart. The memory of his father holding him close after an episode punctured through the mess of the world around him. He flashed back to the warm arms surrounding him, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Through all the noises then, through pain, he concentrated on his father’s heartbeat. And then he listened to his own. Just those two simple, comforting sounds, echoing past the noise of the world. Eventually, the noises would die down, and all he would hear was their heartbeats. Never really beating the same rhythm, but beating together all the same. 

Heartbeats were among the first things he had ever concentrated on, to ease the pain of simply hearing too much. Trying to hear and identify his father’s and then his mother’s, heartbeats rooms and miles away was a challenge, but so rewarding. Growing up, for a long time, he just had them (he never was really good at making friends), and then he always knew where they were. No matter where he was on Earth, even away at college, if he closed his eyes, and thought hard enough, long enough, he could hear he beats echoing back to him. 

Every heart beat was different, unique in its own way. Different pace, different rhythm, even skipping beats at times. Human, turian, krogan, asari, quarian, whatever. All species had a heartbeat, and he could hear them all. He learned to hear the differences to find them on just about any planet. After a while, he could hear people’s heart beat miles away, but never repeating what he could with his mother’s and father’s. Now, though, whenever he felt the control slipping, he mediated on heartbeats.

The process was simple, instinctive. He painstakingly sorted the sounds and noises. Metal scraping against metal. Doors being slammed shut and jolted open. The collective disorganization of inhaling and exhaling. Murmurs of conversations about an attack, damage, the lost. Pounding of hearts, racing to find love ones, to grieve. Screams and yells of anguish at the loss when they were not found. Complaints against the Alliance, though whispered under their breaths. Whispered endearments of finding a love one still here, thanking every deity. All of it faded away, chipped slowly by the calming breaths and relaxing mantras of his father. 

The only sound left that he perceived (since all of the other sound was still there, just ignored and not-processed) was a heartbeat. First his, then he could make out two other hearts beating in the immediate area, likely only several meters away. The distance was not difficult to distinguish. Sound travels in a predictable method through a given medium. In this case, breathable air for most people with limited obstructions in the center of the area. 

One heart was human while the other belonged to a salarian, given the rapid beating and increased pattern from it. Both seemed to be concerned primarily with whatever was in this room, so it stood to reason they were concerned about him. For the moment, they were not a threat, so he let his senses relax a little more, searching for more heartbeats. 

Thirty different humans onboard this ship, along with the salarian (three chambers instead of four), one krogan (two hearts), and a turian (similar to humans). The heartbeat for the turian, (Garrus?) matched the one from the groundside on Horizon. Three other heartbeats matched as well, with one down below him somewhere, one above, and one on this floor still. Though, the one above him was moving down, likely in an elevator. That one, he thought, belonged to the one called Shepard if the communication between the squad he fought with indicated anything.

Now, with his hearing at least under control, he let the memories of the fight wash over him. For anyone else, it would have been suicide to dive into battle, without a plan, without a weapon. Well, technically he had a plan, he just never got the chance to use it. 

Clark Kent had been taught from an early age to stand up for others when they need help, to stand beside them when they did wonderful. Even before he could control his powers, for lack of a better term, he understood the importance of protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. Most of the time, it was the small things: saving a kitten from a tree, donating money or time to charity, hip-checking a car to stop it from rolling over a child playing behind it, or walking through burning building to save someone. He tried to make a difference, even if he was afraid of being found out. The thought conflicted with what his father desired, to keep him safe, and what he wanted for himself, to be a part of the world. It meant he ran whenever he stepped in and a small thing became a big thing. Like at Freedom’s Progress or here on Horizon. 

The choice to save the colonists was instinctual. The ability to fight was not. He may have wanted to save them, and had the drive, but knew nothing about fighting others. He abhorred guns, refused to pick them up even for hunting, so using one to fight those creatures would likely not worked. But he still tried. He had to try.

Trying meant pulling the only Alliance soldier, one Ashley Williams, into a safe house before diving into the thick of things. He was surprised to hear her heartbeat amongst the thirty and fairly close. She probably rested only a few rooms away, given the rhythm and pitch of her heart. 

Adjusting and meditating usually did not take long for him, but waking up like this, in a haze and with everything blaring at once scared him slightly. The sensation was both familiar and new. Familiar in the sense that he had experienced an information overload, simply trying to hear the world around him (he had yet to open his eyes), and new in the sense that he never had to reestablish his focus unless he overexerted himself. Even in those instances where he did overexert, recovery was minimal. 

When he woke up, Clark felt like the world imploded in on his ears, every noise and sound open and received. The pain almost intolerable, but he worked through it, and now, even with his ears still ringing and aching, he opened himself up to something more than heartbeats. The two closest to him seemed to be talking.

“-ppen?” A female said. Her voice calm and collected, her heart echoing that pattern as she moved closer. He felt something brush against one of his ears and he held back a shudder. 

“Unknown. We screened for pathogens and diseases. Results inconclusive, but possible that one of those the cause. More data necessary for adequate hypothesis.” The salarian spoke just as quickly as his heartbeat. 

He didn’t want any testing. Nothing done to him. He had no idea how long he had been out or what had been done to him. But being tested was the last thing he wanted. Clark forced himself to respond, pushing past the fatigue and aches radiating from every part of his body. 

“No.” Clark winced as someone dropped a metal tray. Likely the female doctor, given how close it was to her heartbeat. “I’m sorry for frightening you.” He smiled comfortingly, hoping that her heart-rate would go down a bit. “But I would rather not be experimented on.” He waited another moment, letting them both calm down some more before swinging his feet off the bed on the side opposite of the dropped tray. “Can either of you explain why I am here? Or should I wait for Commander Shepard?” The man’s heartbeat was coming closer, and no signals were sent out. Likely, the commander was coming to check up on him. 

“What?” the female asked. The doors behind her slide open as Shepard walked in. He stopped at the sight of both the salarian and the doctor froze, or rather, Clark figured that was what happened. No sound came from Shepard’s boots hitting the floor, so the man must have stopped. 

“Commander, I was just asking if they could explain why I am here,” Clark said. 

“How do you know who I am?” Shepard asked. His breathing was pained, limited by some injuries. Clark wasn’t surprised to hear the man walking about, still commanding his troops. 

“Remarkable. Advanced echolocation possible explanation for accuracy of the response.” The salarian finally had recovered from the shock, and seemed to slip right back into work mode. 

“My mother always said I had a good ear,” Clark offered. It was the truth, though she usually said it after piano practice, not referencing his ability.  
He worked to maintain a calm, focused center, exuding that from his being. In the face of the unknown, Clark tried to maintain his grasp over his abilities. Studying him was only one of a dozen or so objectionable outcomes others may arrive to when confronted with what he could do. 

“I’m not being held captive am I?” He could theoretically fight his way out. Despite being knocked around and apparently unconscious, he still felt the tensions in his muscles, waiting to turn the potential into a kinetic burst of strength. Always different and always in control, he strove to protect others, but no one outside his family could protect him. 

“Of course not, Kent,” Shepard said. 

“I know you’re not going to ask how I know your name, given who you are and what you’ve done,” Clark said, motioning toward him. “But I would like to know your companions at least, and how you know mine.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear as harmless as possible. 

Williams had begun to move, coming closer. Her heart-rate had increased, not enough that anyone else would notice, but given how invasive this already was, the simple change in rate was noticeable to him. The still unidentified female and salarian both seemed to be calming down at least, both heart rates reducing to normal levels for the species.

“This is Doctor Chakwas, our medical specialist,” Shepard said. He pointed toward someone but luckily, the doctor spoke up.

“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” The female said. “Sorry, I forgot you couldn’t see.” She was avoiding telling him what happened, though they could get to discussing his prognosis. Hopefully. 

“Actually I can, just trying not to at the moment,” Clark offered. He held out his hand and Doctor Chakwas shook it. Her grip was firm, but her hands were wrinkled slightly from age. 

“What do you mean by that?” The salarian asked.

“The over-excited scientist before you is Dr. Mordin Solus.” No hand took his this time, but Clark reached up and grabbed the buzzing omni-tool in front of him. 

“I said ‘No’ to the data,” Clark loosened his grip, letting go of Mordin. The omni-tool stopped and the salarian took at least a step back.

“Told ya he wouldn’t like it.” Williams had entered the medical facility. Well, her appearance provided a likely answer for how Shepard knew his name. 

“Well, I did tell him to stop.” The pain in his ears receded enough for him to start to concentrate on his sight.

Opening his eyes, light across the spectrum bombarded his receptors. He saw the people in the room, through them, through the wall and out into the courtyard where they fought. Body parts flickered in and out of focus. Bones superimposed against the structure of the medical facility. Muscles and blood vessels seemingly weaving in and out doors and other people. Unlike with his hearing, the images were something he could tolerate for a short while before his eyes fully adjusted again. At least with his sight, he could fake being normal.

“Thanks Chief Williams. I appreciate someone looking for me while I was unconscious.” He said to the back of Williams’s skull, before shifting to her muscles. Her zygomaticus majors and minors pulled on each side of her face, presumably smiling at him.

“Any data we collected will be turned over to you.” Shepard’s eyes turned toward Mordin, as Clark could only see the nervous system. Shaking his head, he tried to relax as the strain of being aware of multiple lights started to take its toll. 

“Before or after you review it? Or make a copy of it?” Williams asked. Blinking, he shifted between visions before settling on seeing her tan face. Hazel eyes stared at him for a moment shifting their gaze over to Shepard. Well, that’s typical. He thought, before considering the salarian. Williams seem enthralled by the commander, repeating a pattern of how most women acted around him. Initial interest swiftly followed by going back to the man from their past. Typically, without any interaction on his behalf.

“I understand your excitement, but…” Clark let his voice trail off. He wanted to know who he was, and why he was different than everyone else. But not like this, not one someone else’s agenda. He needed to know each step, and control over each step. 

“Yes. I was just keeping track of vitals, per the doctors’ orders.” Mordin said. His hands were raised in a placating gesture. Clark felt his eyes shift visions again as he conversed with Mordin.

Clark never had the opportunity to observe a salarian and the cartilage structure they possessed. They looked more like sharks from the zoology books Clark read for the university than anything else. The bones appeared to be floating, likely attached together through muscular tendons. A shift in his vision alluded to this, though circulatory system looked a forest green. The body seemed on full tilt, heart pumping rapidly as any salarians does, but ready to jump out of his chest. 

“Well, can I have the only copy of it please?” Clark asked. His question left no room for bartering. He didn’t threaten either, but he wasn’t going to take the chance either. Mordin nodded, his facial features highlighting his eagerness.

“My apologies. You’re in a new location, different people. Understandably frightening,” Mordin said. “Would like to discuss with you about…everything eventually. But only if you want to.” He rushed the last sentence – an amazing fear, given how quickly he talked already – and somehow Clark got the feeling that Williams was the cause. And he really needed to learn her first name.

“Maybe,” Clark said, “but not at the moment. Right now, if it’s alright, I would like to leave.” His eyes relaxed, falling back into what could be considered ‘normal vision’ and thankfully staying there. 

“No, we need to know what the hell happened out there.” Shepard glared at him. 

“From what I understand of Alliance regulations, I am not required to respond because one – I am not a soldier under your command, and two – you are not a commissioned officer, so you can’t order me around.” Clark hopped off the bed. “Also, thank you for the pants.” He was fairly certain his were destroyed when he fought those things. 

“Yes, certainly a sacrifice to put a new pair on you, but we carry on,” Dr. Chakwas said. Clark blushed slightly, but simply smiled at the doctor. “What Shepard is trying to ask in his own…unique way is we don’t understand how you could have survived.” 

“I’m not sure how I did either, but I don’t trust you.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“With good reason,” Williams said, earning herself a glare from Shepard.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you either,” he gave her a self-depreciating smile, “no offense, but so far, I’ve woken up in a strange place, with strange people and only given a handful of names with no explanation of what I just walked through.” 

“Quid pro quo? Yes, good policy, you share with us and we share with you. Seems fair enough. Shepard?” Mordin said. 

“The proposal seems fair, though I have to warn you, my side of the story isn’t that entertaining,” Clark offered. He would give them what he knew, however, what he knew would probably fill a notecard. But no studying, not yet. And not by anyone he didn’t trust. “Plus, maybe something to eat and a shirt?” 

“As long as I am there too,” Williams said. Clark raised an eyebrow, questioning the statement, while Shepard’s glare intensified for a moment before relaxing. 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Shepard admitted, “we’ll see if the Mess Sergeant can’t whip us something up.”

“Oh joy, army food.” This was a military ship, just not aligned with the Alliance. Okay, he could handle that, until he figured out what was going on. 

“I’d say that it wasn’t, but we haven’t had a chance to stock up on supplies,” Shepard said. 

“Shepard, you work for Cerberus and you still eat like shit?” Williams groaned. “I was hoping for at least one decent meal before hitting Alliance space again.”

“Wait…Cerberus, the terrorist group?” Clark stopped trying to put on the shirt just handed to him. He looked at Mordin and Chakwas, finally noticing the symbol on Chakwas’ uniform. “No, no, I’m out of here.” He dropped the shirt as he tried to get out of the door. 

Cerberus acted in the best interest of humanity, but did so at the expense of other races and even other humans. Everyone was expendable to them. And he had caught the new on the extranet several times about their confirmed activities. Before, he had thought that it was Shepard’s crew, but now he understood: This was all just something Cerberus concocted in order to advance the human race. 

Only problem was, he wasn’t human. He didn’t know what he was, but human did not begin to define why he had all these powers. Cerberus would lock him up in a cage somewhere, or try to at the very least, and people would get hurt. It was just like his father warned him about.

The people seemed nice, willing to listen to talk. Hell, having the nominal aliens on board made it easier for him to accept their assistance. Was that just a ploy, an act to get him to capitulate to their schemes? The plans they succeeded in never would have been made public, but their failures (especially high profile ones) were attributed to the group, directly or indirectly. Whatever happened here, was something Cerberus wanted to succeed at.

As gently as he could, he pushed his way past Shepard. The man skidded into the wall as Clark moved by, surprising everyone in the room. Williams called out to him to stop, but couldn’t. Not when he was on a ship funded by the one group he absolutely needed to stay away from. 

He stumbled his way to the elevator, trying to hurry and move as quickly as a normal person could, but nearly tripping under his feet in his restraint. He choked back a laugh at the action. Restraint summed up his entire life, well, that and control. His entire life he spent trying to restrain himself, not injure others when simply shaking their hand or patting them on the back (hadn’t done either of those in a long time) and trying to refrain himself from seeing and hearing things he wasn’t supposed to in an effort to maintain some self-composure. 

“Clark, wait,” Williams caught up to him. She stepped into the elevator with him though made no move to touch him. 

All the fear was turning into rage as he began to make those logical conclusions about Cerberus’ actions. He shook, trying to contain the extreme emotions. His control slipped and he began to hear the discordance again. Not loud like it had been when he woke up, but it started to hum in the background, only adding to his current disequilibrium. 

“How is Alliance with Cerberus?” He asked. His voice was a harsh whisper as he reigned in his emotions. The question needed to be answered, before he could even think of anything else. Operations Chief Williams was with the Alliance, and from what he could tell of his and her short time on the colony, she stood up for it no matter what the fight. 

“We aren’t,” she said just as softly. “I just sent Councilor Anderson an email, briefing him on all of this. He knows where I am and he knows I have a civilian with me. If anything happens to either of us, the Alliance will be aware of it.”

“I’d be more worried about you,” Clark said. He turned to look at her. Before, he had moved her about and initial just interacting with her, he never noticed the size difference. Just as she seemed to in charge and in everyone’s face about things, he never noticed how short she was in comparison to him, and Shepard since the man looked about his height.  
The train of thought only served to make him angry at the end. “I thought Shepard was on your side,” Clark said, flexing his fists as he tried to mentally release some of the anger through his fingertips. “How did he end up on a Cerberus ship?”

“They brought him back. I don’t know how, but the why is those bug things you fought,” Williams leaned back against the elevator wall. She crossed her arms defensively. “He’s been dead for two years, and they bring him back to fight the Collectors.”

“The bug things?” Clark asked. 

“Yeah, somehow, they didn’t freeze you,” Williams said, looking him over. For some reason, Clark got the impression he was be appraised or evaluated for some flaw. It wasn’t like Mordin’s or Chakwas’ scientific curiosity, or Shepard’s general sense of angry and distrust. Williams seemed to be looking for something, and nodded to herself when she was satisfied. “I know you have no reason to trust any of us, but the way I see it you have three options.”

“Okay, what are my options?” Clark turned to lean against the wall himself. His anger still bubbled just under the surface, but he had calmed enough the discordance of noise around him faded away and his vision seemed to have cleared up as well. 

“Option one: we trust Cerberus and follow their lead.” Williams scowled at even mentioning it. “Option two: we trust Shepard and follow his lead.” 

“We?” Clark interrupted. 

“Yeah, we. You’re a civilian. And as the only Alliance representative in there, and on this planet, I have to look out for you.” She had not seen him jump onto that creature, but Clark thought that even if she had, she would have meant it. “I know the Alliance hasn’t always done the right thing, but I try to, and right now…”

“I get it,” Clark said. “You want to help. You have the drive to help. And more importantly, you have the ability to.” He looked at his fists, flexing them before relaxing them against his thighs. 

“Damn straight,” Williams said. Clark couldn’t help the small smile forming. He never met a woman who seemed so willing to swear. Must be a military thing. “Now, option three: We listen to their side, and head back to the Alliance space, before telling Cerberus to fuck off.” 

“Well, of the three, I know which one is your preferred choice.” Clark pushed himself off the wall. Running a hand through his hair, he searched for words. “Cerberus is wrong. What they’ve done in the past, and what they stand for are abominations to everything humanity should strive for. I don’t want to be a part of that, even tangentially. Even if they are doing the right thing, their actions are still tainted with everything Cerberus has done to bring them here. So, I guess, for now, my choice is option three.”

“I figured it would be.” 

“One more thing, can I at least know your first name?” Williams didn’t say anything, but raised an eyebrow at his question. “It’s just, I figured we missed that drink, and I’d get your first name then. But since we missed it…”

“It’s Ashley,” she said, smiling at his fumbled reasoning.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ashley,” he held out his hand for her to shake. She took it with a blush before leaving the elevator, heading around to the mess. 

“These military people are going to be the death of me,” Clark muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure how to take everything about to thrown at him. Surviving all of this drew attention to him in a way he was not expecting. His strength, endurance, and speed beyond human achievement scared even him and now people wanted answers from him only made matters more complicated and more confusing.

“Hey, I have one more request,” Clark said, following Ashley in a controlled, slow jog. He stopped at the table. “I need a secure line to my mother.” He got several odd looks from everyone, but he couldn’t help but smile. His mother was singularly the most important person to him in the galaxy. “She knew I was here, and she’s going to worry.” Someone must have taken the shirt out of the medical bay, so he grabbed it and put it on quickly. The cold didn’t really affect him too much, but being covered at least made him appear normal. It made him feel more comfortable as well. 

“Sure,” Shepard said. He did nothing to hide the confusion or skepticism out of his voice. “After we debrief.” Clark took the open seat next to Ashley and across from Shepard. Drs. Chakwas and Solus both had retreated to the medical facilities after their conversation, but now the doctor was leaving for the elevator. “Miranda’s going to join us.” Shepard motioned to the woman next to him.

“Ma’am,” Clark held out his hand to the woman who sat ramrod in her chair. The woman was about the same height as Shepard, maybe a few inches shorter. Black hair framed a pale, attractive face, topping a model’s body. Ashley looked petite next to the woman, but still more intimidating (potentially because the other woman was trying to appear non-threatening). After a moment, she shook his hand. 

“Mister Kent, I am Executive Office Miranda Lawson,” she said, glaring at Shepard’s lack of formalities. Ashley seemed to glare at XO Lawson for some reason, probably because of her position as second in command to Shepard and she was the most likely candidate for a direct representative to Cerberus. “I understand we are going to discuss what happened during the last few hours. Now, shall we begin?”

“Wait? You mean me?” Clark was slightly dumbfounded by the brazen approach. Her statement was more of a demand then a request, implicitly instructing Clark to share his information first. 

“Miranda, we’ll start,” Shepard said. He leaned back in his chair, orange scars burning brightly against his pale skin. “So far, we know the Collectors, those creatures, are actively targeting human settlements and kidnapping the populations. This is done without a single casualty and no one is left behind.”

“Until today,” Ashley added. 

“Yeah, until today. We responded when the signal from Horizon went dark, but I’m curious as to how the Alliance knew to protect Horizon.” Shepard looked at Ashley, silently asking for an answer. Or demanding one. Clark really couldn’t tell through the scars and exhaustion on the commander’s face. 

“Anderson never said what his source.” Ashley said. “I mean, the chain of command rarely tells us grunts anything. I was just sent out here to supervise and trouble-shoot the project.” 

“Figures,” Shepard said. “The Collectors are real. You saw them; we need to do something about them.” Ashley flinched at the verbal slap before leaning forward to glare at the commander. 

“We are. Some of us aren’t willing to sacrifice everything we believe in,” Ashley said. Just as Shepard’s word had struck Ashley hard, Ashley’s retort struck him. 

“Everyone, calm down,” Clark said. “You two can argue about that later. Right now, we were discussing what happened. Commander Shepard arrived due to the lack of communication from the colony while Operations Chief Williams was ordered here to update the defenses.” He regarded them both as he tried to establish the facts. “Chief Williams, were you here because of the Collectors, was it?” Clark said, checking with Shepard and Lawson. Shepard nonverbally confirmed his question, while Lawson simply glowered at him. “Because of the Collectors, or were you here for something else?”

Ashley leaned back in her chair, trying to appear relaxed but ultimately failing. “The Alliance received word of Cerberus’s involvement with Freedom’s Progress. My orders were to prepare the colony in case of an attack by the terrorist organization.” 

“So the Alliance isn’t even bothering to prepare against the Collectors?” Shepard said. “Of course not. I mean, it’s not like something as massive as a colony’s population is missing.” 

“Again, arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Clark said before Ashley could fire back at Shepard. Somehow, Clark stepped into the mediator role, to get the two of them to at least agree on a narrative of what occurred. He pondered sharing his presence of Freedom’s Progress, but his actions did nothing to assist this discussion. “Now, what did the Collectors do? We – by we, I mean the colonists – saw their ship arrive. It had to have been larger than a dreadnought, but somehow, it landed on the planet. How did they freeze everyone? Well, maybe freeze is inaccurate. They placed everyone in stasis somehow, but your squad was not affected.”

“No, and neither were you,” Lawson added. 

“Neither was everyone in the safe house,” Clark said. He refrained from answering her question, and Lawson seemed to realize it. “My question is how did you prevent the stasis?”

“Dr. Solus developed a suppression method for us.” Shepard said. “You’d have to ask him for more details.” He waved up toward the direction of the elevator. “But this brings us to your involvement. I want to know how the hell you fought those things.” He leaned forward, resting his weight on his arms as he tried to stare down Clark. “You rushed in there, without a weapon and without armor.”

“Yeah, I don’t care for guns, never had much use for them,” Clark said. His father taught him to shoot at a young age. It had been a great bonding experience, once he managed to get his auditory system under control. But this had been with gunpowder weapons, antiques by any standard. He refused to touch the modern weaponry, and avoided instances where he could hurt anyone with anything, even his words. For someone who first learned to hear heartbeats, listening to silence was gut-wrenching. 

“Just how did you manage to fling them across the colony then? Super strength?” Shepard said. 

“Well, the simplest answer usually is true, except in cases where a more complex answer offers greater explanatory power.”

“Occam’s razor,” Lawson said. She appeared to accept the statement, though it did anger Shepard more. He wasn’t trying to argue with the man, just not give away everything. “How much can you lift?”

“I don’t know,” Clark said with a shrug. He could lift most of the heavy equipment his father used on the farm by fifteen. Beyond his experience with tractors, he managed to bend and break just about every metal in use, though some too more effort than others. “I think it’s more of an application of Newton’s laws, rather than just strength, though that could play a part in it. I’ve never tested it, and will only do so with people I trust. For now, I’m sorry, but that does not include you or your crew.”

“So you just expect us to believe you? Take you at your word?” Shepard said. Clark stared at him for a moment, letting his eyes shift to what would be equivalent to x-ray. 

“You have three cracked ribs, a fracture in your sternum, likely making it difficult for you to breath. There is another set of fractures in your ulna, your left, not mine. You’ll need medical attention for the set of fractures in your right clavicle and thoracic vertebrae.” Clark said, cataloging the damage to the commander’s upper body. “Officer Lawson, you yourself should receive some attention to the fractures in your femurs, tibias, and fibulas as soon as possible as well.” His vision shifted back to normal. 

“How?” Ashley asked, before choosing to glare at Shepard. The commander slumped in his seat, looking older at the revelation of his injuries. Lawson remained unperturbed in light of her injury report. 

“If we accept that I can do things that you can’t, for reasons beyond any of us, then it will just be easier going forward.” Clark left out he attributed his powers to a currently unidentified alien species. “Again, any tests down will be done by people I trust, and people I believe can help me figure this all out. I apologize, but Cerberus isn’t among those.” 

“Mister Kent, you were brought to onboard because of your injuries,” Lawson said, changing the topic of discussion. Or bringing it back to focus on what had occurred. “A broken ulna pierced your skin and we were unable to field set it.”

“Really?” Clark asked. He was surprised as he never broke a bone before or felt like he had, and shifted back to x-ray vision. He glared at his arms, searching for any signs of breaks or fractures. “There is a couple of healing fractures on my right one, but they appear to be months old.” Shaking his head, his vision reverted to normal. Those could have come from Freedom’s Progress, saving the young girl, but that scenario was unlikely. Advanced healing or a metabolism could explain his stamina. Nothing had ever injured him like that before, so it was an interesting data point. “How did you set it?”

“We required our strongest biotic to assist. Conventional application of pressure failed and we required her assistance,” Clark stared at Lawson. 

“I’d like to thank her when I get a chance.” Lawson shared a look with Shepard before nodding her acquiescence. 

“You’re a doctor now?” Shepard asked drawing Clark back to the original question. 

“No, I lack any formal training,” Clark said. “Instead, I read and studied to try and understand myself. Same way anyone does when they have questions. Well, almost anyone.” 

“You want us to believe that not only do you possess super strength and near invulnerability, you also can see people’s bones?” Shepard asked, scoffing at the idea. 

“Commander, you know people who manipulate gravity to throw it at someone, to apply various pressures to objects, push and lift them up. Why is it so hard to believe that I can do the things I do?” Clark asked. He and his parents had discussed this at length. Right now, he was laying down the argument he always presented to his father. 

“So, what does that leave you as? A human? An alien? What? What are you? Who. Are. You?” Shepard said, almost demanding.

“I. Don’t. Know,” Clark said, repeating the emphasis Shepard had placed on the words. “I know I was raised on Earth, to two loving parents. I know I can do things others can’t.” 

“You could help us take down the Collectors,” Shepard said. There it was. That was what Shepard wanted out of him. Someone else to take up arms and fight alongside him. 

“I could, if you weren’t with Cerberus,” Clark countered. If Shepard was working with just about anyone else, he would have considered the offer. Working for Cerberus was not conducive to his well-being. He would find some other way to help and Ashley already seemed willing to assist fighting the Collectors as well. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that!” Shepard said. He pounded his fists upon table, causing Ashley and Lawson to jump. 

“Because it’s true. You know this and understand it, but you hate yourself for it.” Clark said. “But you are going to do it anyway, because it’s the right thing. Right reasons, wrong support. Stop me if I’m wrong.” Shepard responded with silence, glaring at him. “I believe you. The Collectors exist. So, the question that really needs to be answer is what are we going to do about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the reviews and follows so far. I hope you are enjoying this sojourn into the Mass Effect universe. My goal is to attempt to get a chapter posted every other weekend, and I strive to complete goals. 
> 
> For now, this is heavy on the ME characters, but as the story progresses, we will see more DCU characters coming into the fold. 
> 
> To date, these are the characters and respective actors who could fulfill the roles (in order of appearance within the story):
> 
> Clark Kent - - - - - - - Henry Cavill  
> Ashley Williams - - - Sarah Shahi  
> John Shepard - - - - - Aaron Eckhart or Charles Hunnam  
> Miranda Lawson - - - Yvonne Strahovski  
> Zaeed Masini - - - - - Gerard Butler  
> Garrus Vakarian - - - Jeremy Renner  
> Mordin Solus - - - - - David Tennant  
> Dr. Karin Chakwas - Carolyn Seymour  
> Jack - - - - - - - - - - - - Natalie Portman


	5. Confusing Gratitudes

It had been three days since the attack on Horizon. The Normandy left within six hours of arrive, accompanied by Operations Chief Ashley Williams and one Clark Kent, a seemingly ordinary man who could do extraordinary thing. Unlike with Freedom’s Progress, a little less than half of the colony was gone. Not everyone made it safely off the planet, but at least it was a nominal victory. Or was until the Illusive Man got to speak to him.

Shepard wanted to hate the man with every fiber in his body. The Illusive Man ran one of the most ruthless organizations Shepard had the displeasure of knowing. Yes, there were good people a part of it, but somehow, the man argued for the betterment of humanity, if not demanding, that Shepard sacrifice everything for it. Although not outright, Shepard felt berated for taking time off to ensure that Kent was fine and his crew rested. Others may not have recognized the anger in his voice, but Shepard caught the tones of a leader trying to control himself and everyone around him to the upmost degree. In the end, the Illusive man said it was Shepard’s call, but implied that Shepard should be grateful of Cerberus and give in to their demands. 

The mission remained more important than how Shepard regarded the man. Before, when they first started gathering people, Shepard had intellectually understood the dangers the mission possessed. Now, after their first real firefight with the enemy, his body recognized it as well. So whatever aggression he held toward the Illusive Man, he set it aside in figuring out their next step.

Ashley convinced Shepard of dropping them (her and Kent) off at the Citadel. They still were fifty hours out, but they were well on their way. Previously, Shepard avoided Citadel and Alliance space, favoring the Terminus systems instead. Most of the attacks happened in the Terminus system and he had little reason to return to any area controlled by the Citadel or Alliance. But, given the request and the Illusive Man’s dismissive attempt at direction to pick up more crew members, he found himself hurtling through space with everyone else toward the Citadel.

“Figured I’d find you up here.” Shepard looked over his shoulder, away from the starboard observation deck, to see Zaeed standing in the doorway. “Bout time we had a chat.” 

“About?” Shepard played dumb. He didn’t want or need anyone else telling him what was wrong. He knew what was wrong. 

“I’ve seen men want to die,” Zaeed said, “and men want to live. But you’ve got to make up your mind.” Shepard shrugged his shoulders. He tried to wipe the weariness off his face. This one mission would kill him. Even if he lived to see the end of it, he felt bits of him falling out at the seams. 

“How many of those men came back?” Shepard said. “You’ve got a vacation plan, right? Some retirement dream you want to reach?” Every soldier dreamt of what they would do when they left the service. Regardless of if they were lifers. “End of the day, we all want to lay down our rifles and just rest. Oh, we’ll put different wrappings on it, but we all want to rest.

“What do you tell the soldier who has put down his rifle? How do you get him back in the service? Do you appeal to his honor? Convince him with money?” He knew there was no answer to the question. “The bottom line again is you ask him.”

“That’s what’s bugging you? They didn’t ask?” Zaeed said, a little incredulously. 

“I was dead!” He screamed. “D-e-a-d. Dead. Pushing daisy. Kicked the bucket. Fart in the wind. Bought the farm. Shuffled off the mortal coil. Ceased to exist.” Shepard punctured each with a swing of his arm as if to strike out the statement or his own life. He fell back against the railing, his heart pounding as a chill ran through him. “Zaeed, I was gone. Not for a minute, an hour or a day. Two years. I was dead for two years.” The older man stared at him, two different eyes staring at him. 

“You have any time to relax?” Zaeed asked. Shepard looked up, thrown by the question. “As a merc, we’d get a lot of downtime. Meant a lot of time to remember everything we’ve survived. Most of us drink. But I don’t think you’re the type of guy to grab a biggest bottle of rot-gut and crawl into your cot.”

“Tried it, think I only made my CO mad since half the squad was unfit for duty by the time I finished the bottle.” Shepard shrugged, smirking at the memory. He drank the half the bottle, kicked the asses of anyone who tried to stop him, and then he finished it. It had the first anniversary of Akuze, and he wasn’t sentimental, but he just didn’t need a reminder of his ‘miraculous’ survival again. So he downed a bottle of bad whiskey and got into a fight or two…dozen. He really didn’t remember much of the night. The PT the next day however…

“Figures,” Zaeed said. “When’s the last time you got any?” 

“Really? You have to ask that?” Shepard laughed, trying to play it off. Seeing Ashley and knowing how pissed she was at him only made that cold pit in his stomach freeze faster. 

“Not the type to sleep around either? What the hell kind of soldier are you?” Zaeed smirked. 

“Got my orders, I did them, waited for the next set,” Shepard said. “Corps was all I had.” Until Ashley. He silently added on. Watching distant stars pass them by only reminded him how little he had. 

“Find something new to hang your hat on,” Zaeed sat down on one of the couches facing the observation deck. “Until then, drinking while off the job helps.” He took a long pull from a bottle of something. 

They were silent for a long time. The only sounds passing between them were the comforting hum of the Normandy and Zaeed drinking heavily. Somewhere along the way, he pulled a second bottle out and cracked it open.

“When we were fighting that…that Harbinger, I…” Shepard couldn’t find the words. “On Akuze, I didn’t want to die. On Illos, the Citadel. Hell, even in space, I didn’t want to die. I fought with everything I had. Everything. And on Horizon…” his voice faded as he tried to make sense of the tumbling thoughts. “My shield fell. It got hard to breathe and I just…”

“You just thought what it would feel like to rest again.” Zaeed finished for him. “Not done yet soldier. Still got work to do.” The silence stretched for a moment. Each man gathered his thoughts at Zaeed statement and Shepard’s tacit confirmation of it.

“Commander Shepard, I apologize for listening in.” EDI’s voice chimed through the intercom. Zaeed jumped at the voice, but Shepard had long gotten used to EDI’s continued presence on the ship.

“Is there something wrong?” Shepard asked. He tried to keep his dejection out of his voice. He really could just use a moment to regroup, but as with everything else in the galaxy, he was needed to save the day it seems. 

“I wanted to discuss the application of a defensive matrix in conjunction with your tactical cloak.” Both Shepard and Zaeed turned to stare at the small AI construct that appeared in the room. It looked like a small sphere on a stand but somehow blinking and constructed of millions of squares. “It is something within Cerberus files.” He really wanted to ask how long the AI had been listening, but this was the first time she proactively interacted with one of them besides Joker. In his case, Joker seemed to take the brunt of EDI’s developing sense of humor, which only made the pilot complain more. “You could utilize the matrix to reestablish and boost your shield, should you choose to continue to approach combat in your current manner.” Zaeed nodded before looking at Shepard.

“Thought you were a sniper, but you do damn better when you can get up close,” he said. “Get a better cloak, and you could slip in and kill them before they even know what’s coming.”

“EDI, can you send the information to my cabin? I’ll look over it later,” Shepard said. It let him have that run, the thrill of battle, while also being safe and protected. Even if his shield went down, the defense matrix – in theory- should provide enough of a backup to get him on his feet quickly. He’d have to study it more and review the information/program in tandem with his cloak. 

“Solves the problem of you running in guns blazes.”

“Not really,” Shepard said. He turned toward Zaeed, holding out his hand for the bottle. He sat on the other couch facing the window. The alcohol burned in a good way as a strong oak and cherry flavor filled his pallet. “How long you been holding onto this?” He handed the bottle back, relaxing against the chair. 

“Few years. Bought a crate of them a while back.” Zaeed took another pull. “By bought I mean acquired from traders. By traders I mean batarian slavers.”

“Gave them hell?” Shepard said. His voice nearly growled. 

“Got the crate, didn’t I?” They shared a laugh, before settling back into the melancholy nature of the talk. “Getting better shields ain’t going to solve the problem, you know.” Shepard silently agreed with the older merc. 

“No, but it’s a start,” Shepard said. “This is a start.” He waved toward Zaeed. They sat, staring out into space as they traveled between relays, passing the bottle between them. 

“Excuse me,” a deep baritone asked. Shepard turned to see Kent standing in the doorway. The man was full of surprises and wary of just about everyone on this ship. Shepard hadn’t made up his mind whether or not it was justified. After all, this was a Cerberus vessel, but even Jack seemed to be coming around to a point. 

“Need something boy?” Zaeed asked. The old merc eyed Kent, sizing him up. He hadn’t made up his mind about the heroics Kent performed on Horizon, nor about how he miraculously survived them. 

“I wanted to know if I could speak with Jack, was that her name?” He asked. Despite the question, there was a confidence belaying his uncertainty. “I’d like to thank her.” 

“Sure,” Shepard said. He handed the bottle back to Zaeed, silently thank him. 

Kent stepped aside, letting Shepard take the lead. For the past day or so, after Kent’s recovery, they avoided each simply by chance. Shepard spent most of his time coordinating with the crew and dealing with the Illusive Man. Kent seemed fine staying on the crew deck (D3), choosing to interact minimally with everyone. Those he did speak with, mainly Ashley, commented on his manners and presence. But it seemed everyone had interacted with him at least once.

Gardner said the man would eat anything, and given the food here, Shepard wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not. Joker kept asking to meet him, but Shepard wasn’t sure he wanted to subject Kent to that brand of torture. Garrus seemed okay with him, but Kent didn’t seem to have any interest in the weapons, meaning the two rarely interacted. Miranda simply ignored the man for the most part, while Jacob tried to strike up conversations about what Kent could do (which was a big mistake). After their initial confrontation, Kent seemed to be willing to speak with Mordin, though about what Shepard hadn’t been privy to. Grunt had gotten Kent to somehow agree to a fight, but after knocking the krogan out for several hours, Kent turned down all offers, despite Grunt’s whining. 

That just left Jack. Their surly biotic psychotic stayed down beneath engineering, only arising when she needed to grab several trays of what passed for food. Shepard tried to talk with her right after she helped out in the med-bay, but she cursed him out for a bit. Her words been hurled with their usual venomous intent, so he gave her some time to cool off.

“I apologize if we haven’t spoken since you woke up,” Shepard said. The elevator automatically began to descend. EDI must have been listening, though that was not unexpected. 

“You’re the commanding officer of what seems to be a very difficult mission,” Kent appeared calm. The only time he seemed close to losing it was when Ashley brought up the fact it was a Cerberus vessel, but even then she managed to calm him down. Shepard wasn’t sure if Kent hated Cerberus or seemed to instinctively fear them. Either way, he wanted off this ship and whatever Ashley said made enough of a bargain to get him to stay on until they reached the Citadel. How had he started a damn taxi service?

“Could really use your help,” Shepard offered.

“Despite being able to talk with Dr. Solus, I’m afraid I’d still have to decline. Like I said earlier, you’re doing good work, for the right reasons. I just can’t in good conscious trust the people you work with.”

“Even if I vouch for them?” The elevator stopped, letting them off to the cargo holds and engineer (D4). 

“I don’t know you well enough, Commander,” Kent said. He stepped off, looking right then left. Shepard got the feeling that whatever he did when Kent listed off his injures (which Chakwas confirmed), he was doing again. This time to the Normandy. “It’s why I agreed to speak with Councilor Anderson about it. He offers a unique perspective of knowing you and Chief Williams, as well as being politically connected enough to address this. There is the assumption that he believes either of you, but given a third party – my- evidence to coincide with yours, I think he will be convinced. I think it’s a fair deal.” He made up his mind, walking through the doorway to engineering. Shepard really had no choice but to follow. 

“More recognition and assistance would be great,” Shepard admitted. Kent had stopped at the top of the stairway down to Jack’s hiding spot. “I’m going first I assume.”

“You do know her,” Kent said with a shrug of his shoulders. He almost appeared to be chuckling and Shepard couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shepard muttered, chuckling under his breath. Walking down the stairs, he waited at the bottom for Kent to follow him. 

Jack watched them with cautious eyes. Her biotics glowed with potential as hopped onto a perch of her requisitioned desk. Shepard thanked whatever deity heard him that she was dressed, though given the blush on Kent’s face, the cloths covering her failed to work well enough. 

“Jack, someone wanted to say thanks,” Shepard said in the same tone you would when introducing a reluctant child to an adult. Kent stepped up without prodding. Shepard leaned against a wall, watching as Kent moved up to Jack. She hadn’t moved from her spot, though her eyes had shifted to glaring only Kent now. 

“Miss.” Kent held out his hand for Jack to shake. She stared at for a few seconds before glaring at him. Shepard watched the biotic field around her twist as she continued to size Kent up. “Uhh,” he dropped his hand, but not that dumb smile on his face, “I wanted to thank you for setting my arm.” He looked behind him and pulled a box from behind the wall. A biotic throw pushed the box out from underneath, but it didn’t deter Kent. 

He remained in the seated position, his legs holding his body aloft. Even Shepard couldn’t help but stare at the guy for a moment before shaking his head. The man destroyed what they were going to call a praetorian, a massive, deadly collection of husks, with only a jagged piece of metal. Of course he could hold his body up. 

“I wanted to say that I know what my body can do. I know the paces I can put it through, but I’ve never tested it, really forced it go beyond what it could, until yesterday.” Kent leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He tapped his fingers together before folding them. Shepard watched Jack seem to relax as Kent spoke in his deep baritone. The man somehow was comfort on feet if he managed to get Jack to relax, even a hair. “I didn’t know how far I could go. And when I reached that point, I needed some help getting back. I wanted to thank you for that.”

“You did. Now get out.” Jack pointed behind him. Kent shook his head, not deterred by Jack’s request, meaning everyone else would have left by now.

“When I woke, and found myself on a Cerberus ship, you know the first thing I thought?” Kent asked. “I wanted to punch my way off the damn thing. For all my strength, these walls are paper thin to me. I suspect, if you can manipulate my body, they’re that way for you too.” Shepard finally realized what was going on – Jack was like Kent. 

Kent could do things he never thought humans could. Things only explained away by biotics. Was that the source of his power? Another biotic test subject? It would explain his reaction to Cerberus. 

“So staying cooped up is one step away from being locked up. Staying on a Cerberus vessel, even one commanded by our dear commander,” Kent said. It was the first hint of sarcasm in Kent’s voice, but it got Jack to give a small, but noticeable smile. “Is just one step away from being experimented on. Being probed, prodded and everything under the sun. Because they want to understand us. To know how we do it.” 

“But fuck ‘em,” she said, glaring at Shepard. He held up his hands in defense as she looked back at Kent. 

“Maybe, or maybe there are a few like Shepard back there, that want to help, that make this crazy worth putting up with,” Kent said. “Maybe there are people worth fighting for.” He stood, pushing off from his knees. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “That’s the address for my mother. It’s secure, and I made EDI promise not to share it with anyone.” He was making deals with the AI now? The more this guy was around, the more questions Shepard had. “Ma knows what it’s like to raise someone like us. And I know you didn’t have that growing up, but if wanted it now, she offered to talk with you, whenever you want. Think of it as her ‘thank you’ for saving my life.” Kent turned and walked away, patting Shepard on the shoulder as he headed up.

Jack stared at the piece of paper, holding it in both hands. She sat there, stunned at the offer. To be honest, Shepard was too. Part of him wanted to know what angle the man was playing, but he realized that Kent was too sincere, too nice to even attempt any games. Especially with other people. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Jack finally asked. 

“I don’t know,” said Shepard, “but it seems like he hit the target on the head.” He wasn’t going to ask if she was going to call Kent’s mom. Hell, he wasn’t even going to ask if she was alright. Kent had thrown them for another loop. Maybe now he could get some answers out of the man.

Several emotions ran over Jack’s face. She still seemed to have a hard time grasping what had been given to her. Shepard wanted to know how Kent knew.

“Bastard,” Jack tossed the piece of paper over her shoulder. “Now, what the fuck do you want?” Her glared turned on him. Shepard wasn’t sure if she was now angry with him, herself for showing any emotion (however minute) other than anger in front of him, or some combination. He had enough sense to realize she hadn’t destroyed the paper, only crumbled it a little.

“Nothing, just bringing him down here to say thanks,” Shepard said. “Let me know if you need anything.” He turned, walking up the stairs. She needed some alone time and he need to chat with Kent. 

“Shepard, maybe a secure line?” Jack’s voice called up to him. Her voice was small, frightened. He stopped, waiting to see if she said anything else. 

“Yeah Jack,” he said. She never asked for anything, either taking it for herself or doing without. “I’ll set it up myself and send you a wave once it’s ready.” He didn’t expect a ‘thanks,’ but waited a few moments before continuing up the stairs. 

In the span of five minutes, Kent somehow talked down the psychotic biotic. He did something he wasn’t sure was possible and did it all without mentioning anything in return. If Kent wasn’t human, he certainly was superhuman to reach through Jack’s pain and make it look simple to heal her. Maybe there was some hope left in the galaxy. Almost made his suicide mission look easy.


	6. DNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally off the Normandy, Clark finds himself on the Citadel, with a meeting planned for a discussion he doesn't really want.

Resting his arms on the guard rail, Clark stared out of the Presidium commons deck. Shops lined the walls behind him and he saw several apartments on this level as well. But the view before him astounded him.

Bathed in white luminescence, the facsimile of night artificially fell over the Presidium, maintaining its solar and lunar schedule. The light made the various shops and bars glow across the arms of the Citadel. A mist seemed to form, swirling the light into shades of blues and deeper blues. The light itself danced along with the mist, twisting colors of yellow and oranges, hues gliding along the way as the Citadel turned. Van Gogh would have done extraordinary things with the Citadel.  
Across the way, if he wanted to, Clark could see everyone moving about, eating, laughing, or playing. He could hear the echoes of laughter from children reach across the void between the arms. People rushed about, carrying on business and affairs as normal, but the sight before him needed to be mentally recorded. 

Every planet he visited, ever where he went, Clark found one image to hold on to in an effort to see the universe. With the jobs he took, more often than not people engaged in reckless and aggressive behaviors highlighting the worst of any species. He witnessed some of the acts, but he always had to assist in the repairs. Basic field medicine applied at the right time meant life or death for most. That was life in the Terminus systems though, a life he hated.

At the same time, these little moments reminded Clark of the good people he met. A young woman saving up to leave a planet by working in a dive bar thanked him before he ran from his problems again. The little girl he saved on Freedom’s Progress from the burning building. And now Horizon, though his rescue efforts certainly were larger than anything action he took prior. No running away this time. 

Checking his new watch, Clark let out a sigh. He had told Ashley he would wait for her here, after setting up a meeting with Councilor Anderson. She wanted to make sure Shepard had time to speak with the Councilor and the rest of the Council before discussing the events with him. When asked why not talk with the military, she rolled her eyes and said something about burying it and shoving her onto another dead end job. 

So here he stood waiting and left thinking. Once the Normandy (the ship where Shepard and his crew took him) had landed, he disembarked without a word, stopping only to thank again and say goodbye to Jack, the biotic that helped him. She seemed taken aback by his mother’s address and info, but wanted to keep in touch with him too. Said something about helping her and just talking to a friend. Even with his advanced hearing, he only caught a little of it since he wasn’t sure she even vocalized it. 

“Enjoying the view?” Clark turned to look at the asari behind him. Her blue crests were off-set by light purple markings on her face. The tribal tattoos appeared almost too beautiful and designed to be natural. Her body swayed sensually as she walked up to him. 

“I’m usually in one of the Wards,” he said. She leaned on the railing next to him, standing as close as she could without actually touching him. 

“Need someone to show you around?” Her husky voice purred next to his ear. Clark felt himself stiffen, in more than one ways, as she leaned closer to him. He felt her arm wrapping around his. 

“I-”

“He’s already got somewhere to be.” Clark turned, spinning away from the asari and out of her grip. Ashley stood several feet behind him. His blush deepened out of embarrassment, though it stemmed more for being unable to hear the soldier approach than talking with the asari. Roughly grabbing his arm, she pulled him away from the view of the Citadel. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you already are flirting?” She scoffed at him. He hadn’t even had a chance to respond before she dragged him toward an elevator.

“Anderson just finished with Shepard. Said he wanted to meet you.” She crossed her arms, glaring up at him. 

“Hi,” Clark said. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong, though it had something to do with the asari. 

“Hello,” she said, before pursing her lips as her glare evolved into a glower, trying to burst him into flames. 

“So,” he said, letting word drag out. Best course of action was to ignore whatever he had done to piss her off until he had a chance to process it more. Or at the very least, “Is the commander heading out already?”

“He said something about a new set of dossiers of crew members.” Ashley didn’t give any more information, choosing instead to continue to try and drill a hole in his head with her eyes. Eventually, she broke the silence. “I heard the scuttlebutt that you said goodbye to that psycho at the bottom of the ship,” she said. 

“Jack?” Clark said, scratching his head. “That’s what you’re angry about?”

“Why would I be angry? Did you do something to make me angry?” 

“I just let her know she could contact Ma if she wanted to,” Clark wiped his eyes, trying to figure out what she was referring to. “Figured she’d want to talk to someone who raised someone like us.”

“Like us?” Ashley questioned, though some of the anger had left her eyes. 

“Yeah, she fixed my arm. I told her I know how far I could push my body and alluded to the difficulty she would have faced when assisting me. She seemed to be okay, though I honestly have no idea if she is going to send Ma a wave. I mentioned it and it was her idea.” Clark took a step off the elevator once it stopped. A VI notified them of their arrival at the embassies and a set of asari were waiting for them to disembark. Ashley hopped off and moved in front of him. 

“Look, we don’t have time for you to make a booty call. I need your head in the game.” She appeared tired.

“Are you referring to Jack or the asari that came on to me?” Clark asked, bewildered. “Because if you’re referring to Jack, then she just looked like she needed a friend, someone who understands. As for the asari, I think she lost a bet with her friends.” Ashley scoffed at him. “I didn’t lead her on.” He held up his hands, trying to defend herself.

“Relax son,” a human male said. “You’re not going to win at this point.” His eyes were filed with mirth. Patting Clark on the shoulder, he got onto a newly arrived elevator. “Retreating is the better part of valor.” 

Both of them stared at the closed elevator doors before Ashley marched off. Clark caught up to her easily, but she seemed content to ignore him, though she seemed to calm down a bit. With this situation at momentarily settled, he finally realized the Operations Chief had changed from her armor.

A blue, skin-tight uniform clung to her lithe body. Her hair was out of the tight bun she wore previously and hung down, swaying slightly against her neck. He wasn’t sure if the uniform was intended to add any protection, and dared not to try and shift visions to confirm that thought. Given the moment before, he wasn’t sure he should even be looking at her like this. 

“Hey, you still owe me a drink,” Clark said. She stopped outside a door, turning only slightly to stare at him. “On Horizon, you said you wanted to get a drink.” 

“What makes you think I would go for a drink with you? I mean, you told me everything already,” she lifted her head, trying to stare him down.

“You’ve heard things you want to hear, and you still have questions.” He looked at the office, and through the open door, he could see the Councilor standing there with a smirk on his face. “You’re going to have more after this too.” He stepped through the doorway, moving quickly to greet the Councilor. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you Mister Kent,” Councilor Anderson said. His voice carried the air of command, direct and sure. Clark shook the man’s hand, smiling through the twinge of fear running through his body. 

Councilor Anderson stood about his height, maybe a little less, but definitely a bit taller than Shepard. He held himself like a soldier, but his dark eyes shone with political skill. He had to be in his mid-sixties, maybe a little younger. It was hard to tell, but the one thing Clark easily recognized was how tired the Councilor looked. 

“Well, I’d ask if it was good things only, but I suspect that Ashley spoke with you first,” he said, looking behind him to see her enter. He returned her scowl with a grin before dropping it and turning back to the Councilor. “I want to know you won’t try and ship me off somewhere to be studied.” It was the one non-negotiable point he had. He refused to work with Cerberus because it would happen, regardless of Shepard’s assurances. 

“Well, you certainly don’t pull any punches,” Anderson said. Technically, that was all Clark did, but he would let the Councilor have his reference. Anderson motioned to a table in front of his desk before taking a seat at the head of it himself. Clark followed, sitting to his right. Ashley moved into the room, her eyes shifting between the seats before sitting to Clark’s right. It surprised Clark slightly, but it definitely was an unconscious behavior of support. “But given what Chief Williams discussed with me earlier, we are going to need your help.

“Both of your accounts, as well as Shepard’s report, offer us a unique opportunity to exploit the Council’s desires and ensure the safety of all humans,” Anderson said. “We need to take the fight to the Collectors. And stop them from taking any more humans.”

“How do you suggest we do that? We had no warning at Horizon. And I think the only reason the Collectors left was because Clark knocked them on their collective asses,” Ashley said, before looking self-conscious. “Sir,” she added. 

“At ease, Chief.” Anderson said, chuckling at her comment. “What kind of weapon did you use? I read the reports, but Shepard was vague and the Chief here did not mention how you were able to take out the…Praetorian. Is that the term you ended up with?” Ashley nodded to answer his question.

“I don’t use weapons, I really don’t like to fight,” Clark said, first looking at Ashley before turning toward the Councilor. Anderson stared at him for a moment, before accepting Clark’s statement with a nod. 

“From both accounts, you did remarkably well,” Anderson said. The Councilor must have realized something, as he seemed to be changing tactics. “How about you tell me your side of the story? You may not like to fight, or fight well, but you certainly were built for it.” 

Clark spent the next hour, explaining events from his side. He tried to avoid explaining what he could do, but Anderson and Ashley both kept pestering him with questions. He grew uncomfortable as they tried to ask more personal questions, ones that his ‘government’ file would not have, about what he could or could not do. Instead of avoiding them, he simply stated he didn’t know, and again, his stipulation that he would only work with someone he trusted on finding out what limitations, if any he had. The entire fight for him took maybe half an hour, if that, but the debriefing (if that was this was called) had taken nearly double. No wonder the military appeared so inefficient at times.

Once Anderson ran out of questions (or got tired of Clark’s stonewalling responses), he leaned back in his chair. Staring at Clark, he appeared to be evaluating the younger man. What he needed to make his mind up about, Clark wasn’t sure. There was one set of events three different point-of-views confirmed. The facts did not vary between story, and two Heroes of the Citadel agreed on said facts. 

Clark had to hand it to the Councilor; the man knew how to extract information. Since he finished speaking, Clark realized he had given a decent amount of information on what he could do with his abilities. Not everything, and undoubtedly Ashley would reveal more later (like his different visions), but still, more information than he was comfortable with was now in the hands of someone he still wasn’t sure he could trust. Ashley did trust the Councilor, but Clark couldn’t necessarily identify why he trusted her. Maybe it had to do with her wanting to get to know him first, before even knowing about what he could do. She asked to meet with up and talk, which was more than most people attempted. It was a sad state of affairs for him when the thought of friendship made him trust someone more than he probably should. 

“It seems we have a unique opportunity to protect ourselves. The Collectors are real, and their purpose is still unknown. Cerberus has some idea of what they desire, but we cannot trust them. Even if Shepard manages to stop them, there still is the question of why.” Anderson spoke to them, but his thoughts appeared elsewhere. “Answering the question won’t be easy, but the Alliance continued developing its research and tactics division since Cerberus splintered away. I can speak with Admiral Hackett, and together, we just might be able to stop them, if not slow them down enough for Shepard to stop them.”

“Do you think Shepard can do it?” Ashley asked, leaning forward to look around Clark.

“Man came back from the dead. I’m not sure there is anything he can’t do,” Anderson said. “But your job isn’t going to be just support. I think we can have you address some outstanding issues the Normandy was designed to address.

“I can get you reassigned to a new division, Williams. Help our team in a direct effort against the Collectors.” Anderson offered. “Do you think you’d want in on this?”

“What is this?” She asked. “And what does that have to do with Clark?”

“Mister Kent here offers us something the Collectors currently do not expect and would likely have no experience in dealing with someone like him. If you’re interested, I think we can enlist you and commission you under Chief Williams.” Clark tried to hold back his warring emotions. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to follow in the footsteps of his father, to join the Alliance. He had been a soldier for just over five years before taking an honorable discharge and returning to Smallville to take over his father’s (Clark’s grandfather’s) farm. 

Jonathon Kent spoke favorable of the Alliance. He had retired well before the First Contact War, but they never really talked about it. Clark wasn’t sure if Pa supported the war or not, but certainly seemed willing to support the soldiers afterwards. It wasn’t something they talked a lot about, since most of their time was spent working, tending to the crops and few milking cows they had. Even with his added abilities, Pa always found something else for him to do, something to work on or fix. He often said it kept them fed some months when it otherwise would have been lean. Clark wasn’t sure how true that was but it always made him feel proud. 

On the other hand, by being an Alliance soldier, he had to follow the chain of command. The Alliance would undoubtedly place him in a position where he would be forced to use his gifts to for something other than good. Be forced to kill someone, another sentient life form. He would fight the Collectors, but to fight and kill another person? Even the thought twisted his stomach. 

No. Clark wouldn’t be a soldier, not if it meant he had to give up everything he father taught him, just to “do good.” There were other ways he could make a difference. Maybe not on this large of scale, but he would find some way. 

“Sir, respectfully, I won’t be a part of the military,” Clark said. “I can’t, in good conscience, agree to be a part of something that prevents me from having a say or control over what I can or cannot do.” He chanced a glance at Ashley, who looked somewhere between hurt and angry. “My father proudly served, and I had been a ‘normal’ boy, I would have served as well. But I’m not normal, and I’ve spent the last five years under the radar of the Alliance and the Citadel because of my lack of normalcy. 

“You have me in an awkward position, Councilor. You know what I can do, to an extent, but I can’t accept a position within the Alliance,” he said. “Not when it means I lose the chance to control my abilities.” 

“Clark, please, we need you,” Ashley pleaded. She grasped his arm and gave him what had to be military grade puppy-dog eyes, as he had no other explanation for her expression.

“The Alliance is filled with good soldiers. You are proof of that Ashley,” Clark said. “But if I have to be a part of something, I cannot be a good soldier. A soldier has to follow orders. Has to answer to the chain of command and do so without question. Well maybe a little questioning.” Anderson chuckled at the comment. Maybe he ignored orders on more than one occasion to complete his assignment. “But I would either be held in testing or forced to commit to something I cannot in good conscious agree to do.”

“We have to stop the Collectors!” Ashley pounded her fist against the table. 

“Yes, we do, but not at the expense of who we are,” Clark said. He kept composed, despite feeling the anger beginning to roll off her, but Anderson spoke before he had a chance to calm her down.

“She is right, but maybe there is a compromise we can reach.” Anderson’s voice stopped Ashley from yelling again or disturbing the potted plants on the table. “Cerberus originally served as our research division, but it was attached to the Alliance, offering them an opportunity to test their research directly on our soldiers. Since they splintered from the Alliance, we needed to develop another research division.

“We’ve called the division Scientific and Technological Advanced Research Laboratories, or STAR Labs. The division is separate from the military. Yes, there is some oversight from the political parties, including myself, but it is not authorized to carry out any investigations or attacks without military support,” Anderson said. “This allows us to maintaining the usefulness of Cerberus, but none of the black ops work they previously conducted. They’ve in fact begun development on the next generation of vessels and weaponry, though, right now, most of their work is based up medical and support. Advanced shields and such.”

“What would my role be in this? I assume Ashley would be your representative to the Alliance, the military aspect so to speak.” Clark understood the concept and on some level, it appealed to him. A separate organization developing new technology to protect people. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that was all STAR Labs did, but at the moment, their purpose seemed more in line with what he desired. 

“It might be better if you talked with the director,” Anderson said. He stood, prompting Ashley to follow him. Clark waited a moment before getting up as well. He still wasn’t sold on this, and was waiting for the moment to turn against him. 

“The director of STAR Labs? Who’s that?” Ashley asked, hurrying after Anderson’s long strides. Clark followed, keeping a sedate pace as they walked ahead of him. He was in no rush and still weary of the Alliance’s motives. 

“The two companies who contributed the most to the STAR Labs construction of our new Normandy, the SSV Tunisia SR-1, were LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises; we managed to snag a Wayne from Wayne Technologies to head up STAR Labs.” Anderson called an elevator to take them to another part of the Presidium. “Dr. Wayne helped design the Tunisia’s stealth systems as well as most of the VIs.”

LexCorp started as one of the largest human aerospace engineering firms, though their portfolio became as diverse as it is wide. Originally centered in Metropolis, located on the eastern portion of North America, the company itself consisted of several mining groups (LexMine), transportation divisions (LexAir), entertainment subsidiaries (LexComm), hotels (Lexor), and financial institutions (LexEl Investments). The Luthor Foundations ran several hospitals, children homes, and free entertainment centers for smaller colonies, endearing the company to the masses. The company managed to usurp several other human industries, successfully vying for a place in the galactic market.  
Clark has come across them several times, and even seen adverts of their hub on Horizon. But beyond the company arms, he knew little of what the different divisions did formally. Being on the lower end of the class spectrum, Clark managed to hear a great deal of several ‘under’ the table dealings LexCorp had with their subsidiaries, though most were simply amongst overpaying for the purchase of some smaller companies or underpaying for jobs conducted by aliens. The biggest complaint against LexCorp was the human-centric hiring, though no law suits had been successful against the company today. Part of Clark was surprised at LexCorp’s willingness to support STAR Labs, but it may simply be one method a large corporation used to stay relevant and favorable in the public eye.

Wayne Enterprises was just as diversified, though instead of beginning in technologies, Wayne Enterprises began simply as a merchant house back in the 18th century on Earth. Eventually, the merchant house became Wayne Shipping and another arm began Wayne Chemical, until the company became just as large as LexCorp, though over a much slower time. Just like LexCorp, Wayne Enterprises consists of several branches, with the two companies often competing for contracts. Wayne Shipping and Chemical were still in place, expanding their businesses to an interstellar market. Wayne Biotech and Wayne Medical both set up profitable and knowledge research and development hospitals, catering to some rare and once perceived incurable diseases. Their largest division, Wayne Technologies (WayneTech) rivaled LexCorp’s Luthor Technologies, competing to develop new and better technology faster than most companies did. For the most part, the two seemed to succeed in not only driving their profits up, but also carrying the rest of the market and human culture forward, with some stumbling as they tried to keep up. 

Compared to LexCorp, Clark viewed Wayne Enterprises favorable. There was an op-ed piece a while back by a reporter for the Daily Galaxy, about Wayne Technologies working with the quarians on developing better and more ballistic resistant fibers. Besides having military applications for the Alliance, the fibers would better protect quarians at a much reduced cost for the race. LexCorp countered with a similar deal with the volus. 

“So, why did he step down from his position?” Clark studied both companies for a class in college, writing several papers comparing the two. Some things had changed with the companies, but he still managed to keep up with the social aspects of the companies, rather than the business end. 

“Bigger budgets, better toys,” a distorted voice came over the elevator’s speaker. It was heavy, and nearly growled, but at the same time, vaporous. Something about the voice put Clark at unease. It wasn’t the tone or words, but something about the voice seemed off. “Plus, infinite ability to piss off my family by developing stuff for you for free.”

“Dr. Wayne,” Anderson said. He rubbed his temple for a moment as the elevator doors opened. 

“Sorry, sorry, still working the bugs out of the remote interface.” A more normal voice said. Clark looked out, then down, surprised to see a man sitting in front of them. He had thought most modern medicine had eliminated the need for mobility chairs. “Call me Bruce.” 

Besides the chair, the first noticeable fact of Dr. Bruce Wayne was the size of the man. A large, fit upper body held the smiling doctor up. Clark suspected if the man were to stand, he would either be about the same height or taller. Granted, he could look at his bones to determine the actual distance but such an invasion would be rude. 

“Doctor Wayne,” Ashley said, holding her hand out to shake. The doctor rolled closer and dipped his head slightly to kiss it, showing a mop of bed-wrangled, dark brown hair. 

“Enchanted,” he said. Ashley pulled her hand back with a glare, but Wayne seemed to ignore it in favor of speaking. “I knew there was a reason for working with the Alliance. You certainly breed them well.”

“Doctor,” Anderson said exasperatedly. 

“I’m not above hitting you,” Ashley muttered, before catching Clark’s smile. He shrugged his shoulders, stepping forward and out of the elevator to meet Wayne. He introduced himself, shaking Wayne’s hand.

“You’re the director of STAR Labs?” He asked, taking a moment to look around the floor they were on. 

They were still on the Presidium, though nowhere near the artificial lakes. He spotted the arms of the Citadel out of a window, twinkling in the empty night. The floor itself was nondescript, the same sanitized metal sparkling under florescent lights that glowed just a little too off for Clark to no feel uncomfortable staring at. No signs of businesses or other offices, just stark walls and floors. 

“Apparently,” Wayne said with a quick smirk before spinning one of the wheels of his chair, “let me show you around.” 

He led them down a hallway, Anderson walking next to Wayne as the two of them discussed some recent development about the Tunisia. Ashley fell in step with him, looking as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Think this place was the Citadel morgue until the Alliance bought it?” She leaned over to whisper. He might tell her about his advance hearing, eventually, but again, it often fell over the border to creepy. 

“Possibly, but doesn’t that imply the Council giving the Alliance more than they would part with?” Clark muttered back, causing her to chuckle. Anderson glanced back at them before turning back his discussion with Wayne. 

A buxom red-head walked out of a door that hadn’t been there a moment before, prompting Clark to consider scanning the hallway. She moved with the certainty of her appeal, as if the eyes of men and women (even asari) followed her no matter where she went. Piercing green eyes shone brightly out of her heart-shaped face with perpetually pouting lips. She wore a long, white lab coat, but it clung to her in a manner to not hide her body from anyone’s eyes. Like Wayne’s or the Councilor’s.

“Pam, you’ve met the Councilor before, right?” Wayne said. He maneuvered his chair so he was next to her, letting her lean into him as best as she could. Somehow, even with all her appeal, Bruce managed to easily take control of her dominance it seemed. Anderson, however, still seemed to fall over himself while standing up straight. “Doctor Pamela Isley is our best xeno-botanist, and currently here as a favor to me.” A sweet perfume filled the air, and Clark had to hold back a sneeze, before relaxing a bit. Anderson appeared completely at eased, maybe enthralled a bit. 

“Which you are paying me wonderfully for,” she purred, implying her payment came in other forms than credits. Anderson even blushed a little under her gaze. The woman was walking sex appeal, but if she was working here, then by no means an idiot. “We’ve managed to isolate a compound and cross-bred it into several roses. Hopefully, this will aid in prevent the nanites from halting movements.” 

“Wait. You’re cross-breeding plants to stop nanites?” Ashley asked. She stared at the woman who simply nodded at the soldier, before the scientist turned her attention back onto Wayne. 

“Yes, between several divisions of STAR Labs, we’ve isolated the method the Collectors used to disrupt the nervous system,” Wayne said. He tapped his wrist, prompting an expansive omni-tool display to appear. Clark gaped at the impressive and intricate display of several moving nodes and packets of information. Wayne stared at it for a moment before shutting it down. “Wonderful work Pam. Same time as usually?”

“Like I’d let you forget,” she said. She leaned down, kissing at first gently before indulging in a kiss most would have reserved for the bedroom, or at least no other company. Once she let up, Wayne still looked at ease, though decidedly gratified, while Isley flushed red. As she walked away to another door in the hallway without actual doors, Wayne watched her hips sway. 

“I love my job,” he said, smiling goofily. He turned serious, appraising Clark. “Now, that’s a great segue into what you wanted to discuss Councilor.” Anderson coughed, snapping out of the daze left by Isley. Ashley gave the Councilor a small glare before switching it over to Clark. Wayne led them to a doorway, and his omni-tool flared up as the door opened.

“We keep the facility secure by encoding all doors to respond only to omni-tools. Despite appearing sparse, we are limiting what information leaves without my approval.” He said, motioning them to take a seat at a conference table. “A few of my colleagues will join us in a bit, but Pam is only the tip of the iceberg at the talent we’ve managed to keep here.” Clark sat on the side they entered in while Ashley once again took a seat to his left, though this time may have been to have him make sure she didn’t hurt Wayne in some way.

“I take it you read Chief Williams’ report?” Anderson asked. Clark kept his face neutral, but silently thanked the man for not completely disclosing everything.

“Besides the parts you left out, but from the addition to this meeting, I think we’ve answered any question I may have had,” Wayne said in a much more serious voice. He studied Clark, sizing him up and trying to understand him. “So, no weapons, but you managed to take down a tank of a husk? Damn, can’t wait to start working with you.”

“Who says I’ll work with you?” Clark asked. He hadn’t made up his mind yet, and still hadn’t been given a reason to trust STAR Labs or the doctor in front of him. At least this one didn’t start running tests on him upon finishing the initial meeting (Clark wasn’t holding any bets about that not happening).

“You are meeting with the Councilor for the humans, who brought to my attention the recent attack on Horizon.” While he was speaking, Wayne pulled up his display on his omni-tool again, working on moving several of the nodes around and directing packets of information it looked like. “An attack, I might add, that failed to meet the Collectors’ needs. An enemy we been having trouble locking down completely. Chief Williams’ report alludes to, but never names a man who saved them.” Clark glanced over at Ashley who nodded. He wanted to thank her aloud, but settled for returning her nod.

“This man, while not actively observed, performed feats beyond the normal human, and alien, capacity. Understandably, this information could be detrimental if in the wrong hands, even mine. A level of mistrust is expected, if not demanded of any individual who could do this. Even biotics are subjected to scrutiny within the Alliance. The Hero of Horizon would be subject to even more, and probably worse. I assume Shepard sent you a report as well? I’m going to want a copy of that, especially if you don’t want me to hack your records. Again.”

“How do you know about that?” Ashley asked before letting out a tired sigh. Wayne’s blunt approach didn’t faze Anderson, nor did the statement (or threat) about hacking. 

“Besides the numerous sightings of him on Omega? Wayne Medical refused to fund the Lazerus Project, but LexCorp did, though a subsidiary.” Wayne moved a node, tossing it over his shoulder where it dissolved before continuing. It looked like he was arranging the nodes to create something, though at the moment, Clark wasn’t sure. An image of a ship, perhaps? “The project was a success, given the leaps forward LexCorp recently began making in medical treatments. The cost of the initial investment and subsequent successes leads to the possible conclusion of the exaggerated demise of Commander Shepard, which is further supported by his appearances on Omega.

“But all of my ramblings aren’t why you are going to help out.” Wayne leaned forward, passing through his display as calculations worked their way out. Clark stared at them, trying to transpose them from their mirror images, before meeting Wayne’s somewhat intimidating gaze. It would have been more effective if the man wasn’t lit up by the glow of the display. “You are going to help out because she asked.” He leaned back, returning to whatever work he had up on the display.

“What?” Ashley asked, confused at Wayne’s statement. Clark tried to balance what Wayne insinuated and his own feelings on the situation. 

Ashley believed in something more than herself, something greater than the part. She believed in the best the Alliance had to offer. From his perspective, the Alliance alone could not offer him their best, because he stood above their best by miles. The Alliance would want to study him, extract what was special from him and abuse him to better themselves. Belief was not enough for him, or at least belief in the Alliance was not enough.

He closed his eyes, letting his hearing spread beyond the confines of the walls as he took a deep breath. Hundreds of voices whispered in the darkness, talking about the mundane. People living their lives, desiring only normalcy and peace, were talking about what to do next, what step to take. Behind the voice were hundreds of heartbeats pounding away at different paces and exercising their right to live. That was what he believed in: life.

Maybe his belief in life and the right to live matched Ashley. If she believed strongly enough to lay down her own life for the Alliance, with only a quarter of his abilities, then he could step up and do the same. 

“What do you propose I do?” Clark asked. “I am not a scientist, but I don’t think that is what you want my role.” Wayne finally stopped looking at the model on his display. Gone was the vapid man they first met when stepping off the elevator. 

“The Tunisia offers us a chance to respond to problems just as quickly as the Normandy would have.” He waved his hand, sending the model of the vessel over the center of the table. 

The Tunisia had an elongated nose, extending to the rear of the ship. The cargo area appeared larger than what he expected, or maybe that was the engine. Clark never had the opportunity to review the original Normandy and only scanned the SR-2, but on this ship the wings extended forward, spanning more of the length of the ship than the Normandy. Beyond that, Clark really wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“Advanced shielding was developed in light of the attack on the original Normandy. We designed it based upon the final readings and collected information, so in theory it should hold up against any Collector attacks.” A series of parts glowed upon the model both underneath and on top of the model, moving from front to back. 

“Weaponry is secondary, but we are working on something right, by we, I mean R &D, who you’ll meet in a bit,” Wayne highlighted another part, with a single gun appearing underneath the model. “For now, we’re basing it again off the attack on the Normandy. We’re hoping to have this design ready for the rest of the fleet.

“The engine offers the same stealth qualities, though we haven’t been quite able to match the speed. Maneuverability isn’t an issue either. Overall, we’ve designed the Tunisia to be more defensive than the Normandy,” Wayne finished. “Now for your role in all of this: you’re going to be its captain, Mister Kent.”

“Me? I know nothing about running a ship, let alone what do with a crew,” Clark said.

“Mister Kent, you managed to get a Cerberus vessel to agree to bring you here. Without any experiments on yourself. You talked down the Hero of the Citadel, of Akuze from doing something likely exceedingly stupid on his own and convinced the political powers of the Alliance to start worrying about the things instead of their own asses. Besides all of that, you took the fight to them, without meaning to, without agenda.”

“People needed help,” he said, “I couldn’t stand by and not do something.”

“The level of threat you jumped in on is way above everyone’s head,” Anderson added. “Doctor Wayne is right: your help saved the majority of the colony, but right now, that news is limited to some mysterious man. A blur is what some of the witnesses are calling you.”

“That’s not inaccurate,” Ashley said. “The only reason I knew it was you was I was there when they found your body.”

“Thank you for that by the way,” Clark said. He thanked her earlier, but it deserved repeating. “How would this work? I’m not agreeing to anything: I need to know more.”

“Wouldn’t I want leading this if you didn’t,” Wayne said. He tapped his omni-tool again, prompting the display to dissolve into the ether. 

“That sounds like our cue to head out,” Anderson said, motioning toward Ashley. She stood, but looked as confused as he felt. 

“Sir, I thought I was going to be working with him, I mean them,” Ashley said. 

“Admiral Hackett is going to be contacting us to discuss the Alliance’s end of this. Kent will need to fill out his own paperwork,” Anderson said, walking out the door. Wayne shook his head, grinning as he denied Anderson’s statement. Ashley glanced at him over her shoulder before following the Councilor out the door. 

“No paperwork, well, not beyond the nominal stuff for payroll and health insurance,” Wayne said. “Everything else will be kept between me and you.”

“Why the secrecy?” Clark asked. 

“Because the more paperwork we have on you, the more questions people will ask. Questions neither of us really want.”

“Then why hire me?” 

“Because STAR Labs needs some way to test everything in field conditions we control. Because we want someone we know will put the people before mission every time.” Clark couldn’t argue with that point of view. “I want someone I know can handle the hard choices. We can’t save everyone, and we need someone who will save as many people as physically possible. But most importantly, because I can’t, I want someone out there I know can handle himself.”

Clark stared at Wayne, trying to balance everything the man said with the way he presented himself. He didn’t follow most of the personal lives of the Wayne family, but almost all of them seemed to either be incredible serious about what they did or playboys and girls, out to have fun. The man in front of him appeared to the latter, but seemed to be former. He wanted people to underestimate him. Outside of STAR Labs, he probably was the playboy everyone thought. Clark wasn’t sure if the interaction with Doctor Isley was inaccurate though, since she worked here.

“So what do you say? Think you’re up for the challenge?” 

“Yeah, but I’d like to see your definition of challenge.” He spoke calmly, without arrogance. Wayne laughed and shook hands with Clark.

“Come on, let me show you a few of your crew members,” Wayne rolled away from the table and headed toward the door. Clark stood, and moved to keep up with the doctor. 

They walked down another hallway, or it may have been the first. Clark resolved to scan the entire area once he got a moment alone. First for any surveillance directed toward him, then just to learn what else was going on. The place was designed like a maze, but somehow, Wayne seemed to know the location of their next meeting. 

“For the most part, the mundane tasks will be completed by VIs,” Wayne spoke as he moved forward. “Key personnel have been hired to maintain the systems, but the VIs will conduct most of the work for you. The VIs can be controlled remotely, and will be done so from our base. Its location is need-to-know, but I’ll be able to contact you just about anywhere in the galaxy through a quantum-entanglement communication, or QEC.”

“Taking a leaf out of Cerberus’ playbook?” Clark asked. 

“Hiding the primary location of operations is not a bad thing, in fact, if the Citadel were not a hub of economic traffic, then I would suggest it periodically move to protect the Council.” Wayne activated a door off to their right before rolling himself into it. “I mainly work here, but for this, I – along with the other division directors – believe it would be best if we work remotely, concentrate on this problem, while leaving our other operations continuing as normal.”

“So, how many people know about this…this operation – that’s what you called it right?” Wayne nodded in answer to his question. 

“Right now, just me and the director of research for transportation, though she currently believes the Tunisia will be shipped off to the Alliance immediately. It might, but I think we can convince the Alliance to allow its continued use for problems identified by STAR Labs. But if you mean about the team for this? No one but Councilor Anderson and I know who will be on the team.”

“So Anderson operates as oversight for the Alliance? Unrelated, but knowledgeable of the military?” Clark spotted a cloaked woman walking toward them, her hips swaying slightly with each step. Her head was covered in a hood, shielding her face from view. Glowing eyes peaked out from underneath the shadow, but it would be hard to capture an image of the face without advanced vision. 

“Yes. It was a stipulation with setting up STAR Labs. We have oversight, but it is unconnected with the formal governments of the Alliance.” Wayne stopped as the woman approached. “Clark, I’d like you to meet your infiltration expert, Kasumi Goto.” 

“He’s cute,” Goto said as she strutted around him. Clark smiled through his blush, surprised again at the attention he was given. 

Normally, he dressed to be ignored, wore a size too big clothing to look frumpy and slouched around others. But since stepping off the Normandy, he found himself in clothes that fit a little too well for his tastes (though not as tight as the uniform Ashley wore), as well as demanding he straighten his posture and stand at his full height. 

Miss Goto seemed to subscribe to the same set of style Ashley wore: tight, clingy clothing that left little to nothing to the imagination, but somehow still supporting and protecting her. Goto’s uniform consisted of a purple cloth formed around her body, likely to allow improved maneuverability while in the field. He wasn’t quite sure of the hood, though it could offer the advantages to infiltration. He avoided any more observations as his face began to flush. 

“Miss Gato has agreed to assist us on the condition of assisting her with a problem,” Wayne added, seeming to enjoy the discomfort Gato’s visual inspection caused him. “So, once we’ve completed our initial mission, you’ll be required to help her.”

“By you, you mean me, or the entire crew?” Clark asked, side stepping Goto’s arm as it tried to wrap around his bicep. A pout formed on her lips.

“Leave him be, Kasumi.” Clark turned around, coming face to face black man standing only a few inches shorter than him. 

“John Stewart, our structural engineer and munitions specialist,” Wayne waved. Stewart stood strong, back straight and proud. His buzz-cut allowed 

“So, which branch you from?” He asked, holding his hand to shake. 

“None. I’m not military.” Clark shook Stewart’s hand.

“Kent will be your captain for our maiden voyage,” Wayne said, rolling further down the hallway. Goto gave him another hooded, but still sexually-charged appraisal before following Wayne, discussing her acquirement of something. 

“How did you get roped into this if you’re not military?” Stewart asked 

“I guess because I was in the right place at the right time,” Clark said. “I’m still not entirely sure what we’re going to be doing.”

“Me neither, they pulled me out of weapons testing and transferred me over here. I was a Marine for a while, but got caught by batarian slavers. Discharge and picked up by STAR Labs to work on new weapons and transport designs.” 

“I’ve mainly hopped around, working here or there,” Clark said. “Took what jobs I could.”

“Wait until you see what Kent can do,” Wayne yelled over his shoulder. “We’re going test some stuff right now.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Clark said, trying to make it seem like he was jogging, when for him, he simply felt like walking was a little easier. 

“Not really, but it’s for my eyes only. Well, your team will know, but only records are going to be kept with me. I’m going to have our chief psychiatrist come in and speak with you and Chief Williams for a bit too.” Wayne motioned for Clark to enter a doorway.

“I’m not sure how happy she is going to be about that,” Clark muttered. 

“SOP, it sucks, but we need to do it,” Stewart said. “Typically, we use this as a firing range, testing the impact of our weapons. I’m not really sure what Doctor Wayne’s going to have you do.”

“I love surprises,” Wayne said, “Now, get in the booth John before I find someone else to watch this. Kasumi found popcorn.” The young lady disappeared into the shadows, and if Clark hadn’t shifted his vision, he never would have guessed she did not use a program to hide. It was rather impressive. 

“Really?” Clark asked. He was entertainment now? He held back a groan, while silently hoping the mission took itself more seriously than this. 

“Relax, this is just a baseline.” Wayne’s voice came over a speaker. “Now, the mats are set up to register the pressure of a shot. In theory, it should work the same for you.”

“And you want me to what? Punch it?” Clark called back, though Wayne gave no indication that he heard. Hopping over the railings, he moved toward one of the pads the doctor mentioned. Little indentations from previous tests dented the pads, leaving impressions behind. The pads themselves looked like nothing more than thick sheets of metal, and a quick shift of his vision revealed no one behind them, so if he did hit them too hard, no one would be hurt. But for him, “too hard” was only a slip of his control away. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Wayne said. 

Reaching back, Clark balled up his fist and asserted himself, just enough to release some of his control. To him, the movement was fluid, slow, and controlled, much like how his life seemed to be until he got involved with the Alliance. To everyone watching, his fist slammed into the pad, shattering whatever support held up the wall and thrusting the pad into two rooms away. Walls burst outward as the pad soared through them, the shards becoming high-velocity projectiles themselves. 

“You get that, or do I need to try again?” Clark asked. He couldn’t help but smirk at the looks of shock on Stewart’s face and a combination of awe and amazement on Wayne’s. Gato’s eyes stared at him, but her jaw was dropped, as was a blonde woman standing over Wayne’s shoulder. Blonde’s eyes flashed manic for a moment, before shaking her head.

“I’ll need to talk to him,” she whispered to Wayne. Clark had unconsciously focused his hearing on the booth, hoping to gauge their response.

“No kidding,” Wayne muttered, but nodded his assent. The blonde stared at him again, before moving gracefully from the room. 

“Am I done?” Clark asked. He didn’t wait for a response, walking toward the door. Wayne rolled out of the observation room, stopping in front of him. 

“This is going to require us to reinforce everything around here, or you were pointing out your displeasure of being tested, either way, I think you’ve convinced three of your crew.”

“And the blonde? Who was she?” Wayne wasn't even fazed by the question, taking it in stride along with the large hole in the wall. 

“She is the ship’s psychiatrist. She’ll be there to monitor the situation and offer psychological insight on the enemy.” Wayne waved off the security, which had come rushing up once they heard the crash. “Part of our contract with the Alliance requires the monitoring of all personnel. Hence the psychiatrist.”

“Okay,” Clark said, dragging the word out. 

“Damn good adept too, not the best, but she can kick most soldiers’ asses,” Wayne laughed. “No wonder you don’t want any tests.”

“Yeah, well…” Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m an employee of STAR Labs, aren’t I? Have to show some trust in my boss.”

“No, you didn’t, but thanks,” Wayne said. “Come on, let me show you the mess. People won’t ask too many question, and Stewart’s already set up a cannon to replicate your results. I think you insulted him a bit with your efficiency. No matter, the competition will help him out.” 

Wayne kept talking, discussing nothing as to cover up his curiosity. There would be more tests, but Wayne’s measure raised in Clark’s eyes: The man never asked for more follow ups, and did nothing invasive. Simply asked him to hit a pad and showed a little faith in him. 

Clark was still considered by many a ‘young’ man, barely hitting his middling twenties, but Wayne had to only be a few years older than him. Still, there was wisdom there behind the man in the chair. Wayne appeared to be someone who seemed to understand taking the opportunity to help no matter what the cost. 

Taking a couple of quick steps to cover the few meters Wayne managed to get (and not stop talking), Clark wondered what strange mess he found himself in now, and why he felt excited about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Characters (in order of appearance): 
> 
> Councilor David Anderson............Keith David  
> Doctor Bruce Wayne.......................Ben Affleck  
> Doctor Pamela Isley........................Isla Fisher  
> Kasumi Goto....................................Maggie Q  
> John Stewart....................................Idris Elba


	7. Interlude with Enemies and Friends

Shepard stalked out of the meeting with Anderson. The man may have his back, but the Council certainly didn’t. All they offered was the token gratitude of reinstatement of his SPECTRE status, limited to the Terminus systems of course, because why would they want someone speaking out against them in Citadel space? Damn politicians, kill the lot of them.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Shepard shot a glare at Garrus who was leaning against a post nearby. “I take it was the usual type of reaction from the Council.”

“Parting gift was just as worthless too,” Shepard said. 

“Hey, relax, we figured this would happen right?” Garrus asked. He didn’t seem surprised and for once taking things in stride. Definitely not the reaction he expected out of the turian. 

“Yeah, but…” He let out a puff of air. He felt like he was fighting a war mid-air with the ground nowhere in sight and being bombarding by anti-air and anti-ground armaments. Politicians played like they had all of the cards, but in reality, the only kept the ones they cared about, while Shepard felt his grip on the few cards he had wavering. “Let’s forget them, and get the hell out of here.”

“Say goodbye to Ashley?” Garrus asked. He may not have mastered reading turian faces, but Shepard knew a probing question when it was lobbed his way. 

“Yeah, we agreed to stay in contact,” Shepard said. He pushed his way past a pair of arguing krogans. The disagreement centered on whether or not there were fish in the lake on the Presiduim. “Whatever that means.” He spotted Miranda talking with a merchant, one he had brow-beaten into giving him a discount. 

“You’ve become a bit bigger bad ass since your death,” Garrus joked. 

“Well, yeah,” Shepard muttered, moving toward Miranda. He was working on that, but it was slowing. Seeing Ashley certainly didn’t help, but talking with Zaeed had, even just a little bit. “You going to stick around or pick up more gear for yourself?”

“Cerberus’ dime. I love it,” Garrus patted him on the back, before heading off toward another merchant. 

“This is not the quality agreed upon,” Miranda said, scolding the merchant. Shepard walked up as calmly as he could, and even the mere appearance of him seemed to prompt the merchant to provide her with the appropriate item. He wasn’t sure what she was buying, but he held in a laugh at the turian’s face. Miranda didn’t seem to notice his approach and continued reading her pad. 

“Get everything you wanted?” Miranda spun, wide eyes staring at him in surprise. 

“Yes,” she said. She arranged with the merchant to drop the order at the Normandy before turning to speak with him. “There’s been a change of plans.”

“Wait? We’re not picking up another crew member?” Shepard asked. They began walking toward the nearest lift. The crew had another hour’s worth of leave before they were required to be back on board. Most would be straggling along now. 

“No, Miss Kasumi Goto sent the Illusive Man a missive, declining his offer.” Miranda seemed extremely perturbed at the thought, but Shepard was amused. Now he really wanted to meet Goto, if only to further antagonize his XO. 

“Did you find anyone crazy enough to go along with this? Or are we just heading out?” Shepard asked, trying to hide his amusement. 

“No, he found someone else, and I did not think I could be any more worried about the choice of thief.” She stared at her pad, inquisitive and questioning eyes roaming the message. 

“Who?” He asked. They stepped off the lift to their landing area. “And where?”

“We’re supposed to meet her here, and her name is Selena Kyle,” Miranda read off her pad. Shepard turned, trying to spot the thief. He fared well at the academy playing “Spot the Sniper,” where trained soldiers attempted to find ‘enemy’ snipers on different terrains. While not a perfect score, his success reached the ninety-fifth percentile. Anyone better would kill him, so he wasn’t too worried at the time of that other five percent. Even in public arenas, he excelled at spotting uncloaked enemies. Cloaked on the other hand.

“Another thief? Does she think this is a work-study?” Shepard said, muttering as he tried to spot the tell-tale signs of a cloak. If she was any good, though, her cloak wouldn’t be caught by the human eye.

“It can be.” Shepard spun at the voice purring in his ear, his hand reaching for the pistol on his belt. Miranda drew hers, pointing it at the woman who approached them without a sound.

The woman stood around five-eight with dark brunette hair but large bright green eyes gazed up at him. A sultry smile greeted him. She wore a tight black leather jumpsuit, with a belt hanging off her hips and drawing attention to the sexuality she oozed from every movement and pose. Shifting her hips, she begged attention to be on her, but somehow, no one else saw her or responded to her sneaking up on him. 

“Do I meet your requirements?” She purred again, her step forward as graceful as suggestive. 

“You wouldn’t have been contacted otherwise,” Miranda said. “Goto would have been preferable.” She spoke under her breath, but Kyle seemed to have heard her as her gaze settled on his XO. 

“I’m insulted,” Kyle said, “Goto got the offer first. Almost makes me what to walk away.”

“You’ve already accepted half the funds,” Miranda glared at the younger woman. Well, Shepard thought she was younger than them. 

“For agreeing to meet you and receive the mission, I get the other half if I agree to go on this…fun ride,” Kyle shifted her hips, drawing attention to the tight suit she wore. “Seeing the cut of your captain, I really don’t see a reason to say now.”

“You know it’s a suicide mission, right?” Shepard wasn’t accepting anyone ill-informed on his crew. They had a job to do, and nothing would stop them. Not ignorant and not idiots.

“Honey, what I knew would surprise you,” she purred, running a finger down Miranda’s arm before taking a step back. Miranda shuddered uncomfortable, but Shepard caught the slight glaze over her eyes before she snapped back to attend to the situation. 

“Miss, if you accept, you’ll need to follow the Commander’s order, can you do that?” Miranda ignored Shepard’s smirk. Oh, he was definitely going to question her about this later. 

“Ma’am, all he’s got to do is tell me how tight he wants it,” Kyle said. “Now, before I sign off on this, you need to promise me something.”

“You’re extorting us?” Miranda asked, her voice rising in indignation. 

“Think of it as a mutually beneficial agreement. In the end, I guarantee it will be pleasurable for everyone,” Kyle said, her voice purring again. Shepard felt himself respond as thought unwilling arose as Kyle’s gaze ran over his body. He felt himself smiling, both at her assessment of him and Miranda’s irritation. 

“Any more you want to tell me?” Shepard asked, leaning forward into her space. She seemed to thrive on the attention, smiling widely.

“Just a cat wanting to get what’s hers.” Kyle spun and gracefully moved toward the Normandy. “My stuff’s already on board. This is going to be so much fun.” Shepard stared at her as she walked away, her belt slipping up and down along her hips. Shaking his head, he focused on the more important things. 

“It’s going to be something,” Miranda muttered. “Commander, we ready?”

“The supplies you ordered ready?” Shepard asked, reminding her of the mission. 

**I0I**

Smoke drafted upwards, wafting from the lit cigarettes resting in the Illusive Man’s hand. What started as a nervous habit morphed far beyond into a necessary component to his image. The few people lucky enough to see him always saw the cigarette lit in his hands, expecting him to take a drag every now and then. The drags offered him an opportunity to gather his thoughts and made people sweat as they waited for a response. He enjoyed the tension the silence wrought. 

As the head of Cerberus, he made the tough choices. The choices no one else wanted to or was willing to make when the time came. He identified the necessary items, propelled humanities interest to the forefront, regardless of the costs to them or to other aliens. He didn’t hate the other species. In fact, they all had their uses, but when push comes to shove, humanity has to look out for themselves first. No one else would. So he made the decisions, forced the hands, and dealt the cards so every human had a chance to see and control their future. Of course, some of humanities chances were smaller than others, but humanity as a whole would thrive. The universe was vast, and humanities role had to be just as vast.

Since he approved the Lazorus project, he knew he courted trouble, more than Cerberus usually drew. But the threat of the Collectors were there, evidence outlining their unique brand of evil and allowing the ignorance of the galaxy to cloak their escapades. The only thing for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing. And when the good men couldn’t do anything, the rest of humanity had to step up. Cerberus had to step up. 

The Lazorus project offered an opportunity to bring back a ray of hope for the rest of humanity. While Cerberus moved under its own steam, the rest of humanity reveled under Shepard’s deeds. The best and brightest of humanity saving the galaxy from Saren. 

And then the bastard had to die like the rest.

The Collectors took him out from a distance. No chance to fight back, despite possessing the most advanced ship in Alliance fleet, the Normandy fell just as the Roman Empire did. Eventually, civilization picked itself up from the fall of the Romans, from the destruction of the second great war of the world, and the advent of nuclear power. Just like before, civilization rose like the phoenix from the ashes, so did humanity after that first attack by the Collectors. Cerberus saw to it.

Shepard, like any good soldier, answered the call of duty. Once they retrieved the body, with limited outside help, the Illusive Man ordered Operative Lawson to focus all of her time and energy, including a great deal of resources, into the revitalization and resurrection of Shepard. Her perfect reflection of humanity provided the necessary edge to complete a miracle, a miracle now directed back at the Collectors.

While Lawson worked, the Illusive Man compiled a list of the best of the best suicidal individuals in the galaxy. These were not only incredibly skilled in their fields, but also were willing to lay down their live, given the right form of payment. Everyone had their price, and the Illusive Man excelled at finding that price and then exceeding it in such a manner as to ensure undying loyalty. Cerberus operated because he deemed it to. They were believed, as he did, in humanity’s strengths and took the necessary steps to ensure their dominance. And ensuing Shepard’s resurrection would ensure that dominance. The list simply would allow them the best chance at succeeding. With Shepard at the helm, that chance increased exponentially. 

Most of the individuals were aliens, dispensable and easily replaced. The majority of the crew were approved by him, and vetted with the understanding of a substantial insurance policy directed to who they deemed would receive it upon their deaths. The policy allowed him to establish a willing crew with the understanding of support for their families, an understandable weakness most of life indulged in.

Shepard proved more difficult than expected to control. Lawson had been persuaded not to put a control chip in as part of the process. He still believed he chose correctly, but Shepard seemed willing to burn all bridges in order to get there. There were known and unknown secondary conditions for most of the primary crew, i.e., missions the recruits desired to be completed. Already, the effects of Shepard’s waylaid missions showed important indicators of livelihood and support from the recruits. Zaeed Masini appeared much more in control and willing to follow Shepard’s lead now that the Blue Suns’ leader was taken care of. 

His most recent conversation with Shepard allowed him to provide another four dossiers, though one of the four had to be changed. Kasumi Goto was reputed to be the best thief in the galaxy, and he was willing to pay her fee as well as ensure Shepard’s participation on a mission for her. Again, Shepard’s presence proved vital in convincing individuals. But Goto returned the funding she had initially accepted, saying a better offer had been made. After controlling his anger, he reviewed other potential applicants, deciding upon a Selena Kyle. Nicknamed ‘The Cat,’ Kyle offered similar skills but her reputation of eccentricity and personality reduced her preference on this mission. She agreed, and he hoped Shepard could control her.

“Am I going to see a return on my initial investment?” The Illusive man scowled at the interruption. He had been reading the report Miranda sent on Kyle’s interactions with Shepard. It was too soon to determine if Kyle would be effective, but he trusted Shepard.

“The Lazorus Project was not enough for you?” He turned toward the image of a bald man standing behind him. “From my understanding, you’ve managed to secure several contracts with medical facilities previously held by Wayne Medical. And for a higher fee I might add.”

“Not for the Normandy or the crew,” said the bald man. “LexCorp’s military capabilities should expand from any research conducted.”

“And it will, once we’ve actually managed to collect enough information.” He really hated this man, but he was a necessary evil that agreed to his perception of humanity. 

“Then why had STAR Labs released a contract with WayneTech on the procedure to prevent the Collectors from freezing individuals?” 

“Have they?” The Illusive man was aware of the announcement. The procedure would not be cost effective, but in terms of publicity, STAR Labs won that round. He scolded Lawson for not reporting on the procedure. She stated that Doctor Solis did not share his results or data, and encrypted the files in a manner that would not be effectively dealt with by Cerberus. He reprimanded her and his instructions made it clear she should ‘try harder’ on her next attempt to access Doctor Solis’ work. 

“Yes, they have. I will not be made a fool of again.”

“Lex, you are already winning from this, given you contract with STAR Labs as well.” LexCorp played both sides of the coin, but for now, Cerberus was willing to work with the conglomerate. 

“But I could be winning more,” Lex said, his voice growling. “Humanity may survive if only for the intervention of LexCorp. We can help, but we need more information than the pittance you provide.”

“I provide you everything I know and everything Operative Lawson sends back to Cerberus. That information should more than provide you enough of a push to develop the necessary tools for humanity to survive.” The Illusive Man turned from Lex, staring at the screens in front of a display of an enormous red giant, burning brightly. “It was part of our deal to provide you with said information. Do you care to renegotiate?” The contract drawn up between them was several terrabytes long, surpassing any normal contract or agreement. He expected nothing less from the CEO of LexCorp.

“And waste another week? Don’t kid yourself, the contract stands,” Lex said. Both had much to lose if either walked away. “What I want is results.”

“Shepard should be heading to pick up his next crew member, a Tali’Zorah vas Neema,” the Illusive Man said, taking a drag from his cigarette. When all else fails, continue on. It was something in himself he also saw in Shepard, persevering even in the face of certain death. “Reports say Tali’Zorah is upon Haelstrom, in the Dholen System, where the star is believed to be exuding dark energy. The readings from their expedition will be forwarded onto you. I’ve sent instructions to Operative Lawson to send us everything from the mission.”

“The quarians wouldn’t be traveling that far out, without the intention of finding something. The geth?” Lex seemed willing enough to 

“I believe it is something the geth are doing. Either way, Lawson is under instructions to provide any and all information the quarians have found.” Lex appeared skeptically of idea, but didn’t disagree with him. Regardless, the situation would be beneficial for both of them. “From my understanding, Shepard has already requested time on Illium to conduct upgrades. Some of which are derived from turian capabilities. We will have the schematics for the upgrades ready for your perusal.”

“At least we steal like proper venture capitalists. We’ll speak again in a week. That is the expected time to complete this…pick up, correct?” Lex didn’t wait for a reply, choosing to walk away from the display and his image faded away. 

The Illusive Man scoffed finally, taking a long drag from the cigarette. The smoke unfurled around him as he released his breath, trying to hold in the anger. Lex Luthor was the only man more infuriating than Shepard. Despite demanding everything and expecting having to return nothing, Lex’s funding offered Cerberus another edge. 

Every edge for the human race offered them an opportunity to take another necessary step forward. Every step forward for the human race meant their continued survival, which meant they could move one step closer to their place in the galaxy. Humans were always explorers, but more than that, they were conquerors, rulers over their domain. The Council curtailed any attempt to expand formally, but informally Cerberus funded several colonies in the Terminus system (all of which were fortified in light of the Collectors’ strikes). 

Staring into the star, he pondered where humanity could go next. Their plan would succeed, regardless of costs. They would win, and humanity would propel forward. Just as their right was, just as it should be.

**I0I**

**To: Martha Kent (martha.kent@smallville.civ.pub)  
** **From: Jacqueline Nought (jkz0_67345@ward57.cit.pub)**  
 **Subject: …**  


_Mrs. Kent,_   
_I’m not sure what the hell your son told you about me. I’m not even sure why I give enough fucks to send you a message. But your son gave me your contact info, and made sure it was secure._   
_I’m not a good person. I’m not. And I don’t know what anyone could say to change that. But fuck everyone else. Fuck ‘em._   
_And I’m still emailing you. I don’t know why. Or what to say. But I just thought, maybe you could help. Someone who doesn’t know the things I’ve done, or seen who I am. I’m not a good person, not even close, but I’ve made my choices. I won’t hide from them. Not once, not never._   
_I’m the psychotic biotic. I’m the biggest bitch in the galaxy._   
_And I don’t know why I’m sending this to you._   
_Jack._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** To date, these are the characters and respective actors who could fulfil the role (in order of appearance within the story:
> 
> Clark Kent...Henry Cavill  
> Ashley Williams…Sarah Shahi  
> John Shepard…Charles Hunnam  
> Miranda Lawson…Yvonne Strahovski  
> Zaee Masini…Gerard Butler  
> Garrus Vakarian…Jeremy Renner  
> Mordin Solus…David Tennant  
> Dr. Karin Chakwas…Carolyn Seymour  
> Jack…Natalie Portman  
> David Anderson…Keith David  
> Bruce Wayne…Ben Affleck  
> Pamela Isley…Isla Fisher  
> Kasumi Goto…Maggie Q  
> John Stewart…Idris Elba  
> Selena Kyle…Anne Hathaway  
> The Illusive Man…Martin Sheen  
> Lex Luthor…Damien Lewis


	8. Chapter Eight: Once More into the Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait. The holiday got away from me it seems. Here is the next chapter. Please enjoy.

From what Shepard could tell from the mission brief, Haelstrom was a nasty place. Not because of the planet, but the star seemed to overwhelm the magnetosphere. Whether this was due to the planet’s proximity to the star, the lack of habitable atmosphere, or the reported dark energy of Dholern, Shepard wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t take the chance. Harmful rays cooked individuals directed in contact with the sun. This changed the battle plan, but not the teams. 

Shepard had persuaded Garrus to lead a team consisting of him, Grunt, their krogan soldier, Zaeed, and Mordin. Garrus possessed the unique ability to overload the geth, making him a prime candidate for leading the group, while the others offered an opportunity to blast their way through. Mordin had requested permission to travel with them, simultaneously collecting data on the geth, the planet, and the responses of the team members. The salarian’s intelligence was scary when directed on one topic, let alone three. 

This left him with Miranda, Jack and the new recruit, Selena Kyle. Her ability to strike hard and fast from the shadows could be invaluable, but right now he needed to see her in action. This meant taking her along with as a trial. Miranda possessed a similar ability to Garrus, overloading the shields and machines through the use of an omni-tool program. She made sense to take along as well. Jack seemed to desire a release, wanting to bash heads, and he needed another heavy hitter in case things became too overwhelming.

That left Jacob, who seemed to beg off on the mission. Something was bothering the man, but the weapon specialist had yet to reveal what the problem was. As long as Jacob wasn’t too distracted, he’d leave the man be. Some down time on Illium would offer Shepard the chance to confront Jacob about this, if he hadn’t stepped forward by then. For now, they had to worry mission and about rounding out their crew. 

Despite Zaeed’s crude but accurate comment about his all-female squad, Shepard felt confident of their ability to hunt down the geth and get to the quarians in time. Garrus’s team would be assaulting the front, directly attacking them in an effort to not only draw their fire, but dwindle their numbers. Hence the reliance upon heavy power and attacks. That left his team to swing around and try and sneak in. With Jack coming along for the right, that could be hit or miss, but certainly they would take the geth with them. 

“Waiting on you,” Jack called out the back of the Hammerhead. He insisted she wear body armor, in fact everyone was required to cover up.  
Jack ‘borrowed’ a jumpsuit from Kyle, not filling it out quite as well, but it provided sufficient cover for the mission. Kyle wore what could be her typical purple suit, with a sub-machine gun clipped to her belt still hanging on by her hips. He forced even Miranda to wear something a little sturdier than her usual uniform, a white and black armor. 

“Stay safe,” Shepard called back. Garrus nodded in response, heading back up to the pilot to head to their drop zone. Shepard ensured his defensive matrix program was readily available and ready to be tested. 

He jumped from the back, landing on his feet between Jack and Miranda, glaring at each other through their helmets. Despite ordering everyone else to wear one, he opted for the use of the Archon visor. The lack of cover over his entire head could be a problem, but just trying to put his N7 helm forced his heart rate through the roof, his breathing staggered. His fingers wouldn’t snap it shut over his head. He grabbed the Archon visor in its place, surprised to find it in his locker. 

The Archon visor used an efficiency algorithm to balance processing power for biotic amps and omni-tools. It provided HUD and voice command software allowing users to micromanage the systems, in particularly, his omni-tool abilities. This reduced the cool-down period between energy expenditures, providing him the opportunity to get off more snap-freeze programs and cloaks, or God-willing defense matrixes. The latter though required additional components he would need to pick up on if he ran low.

“Shepard?” Miranda silently was asking him about the visor. Out of anyone, he knew she’d question it, especially with the orders he gave the rest of the crew. Zaeed understood immediately, and Garrus had to take one long look at him before he got it. The others weren’t soldiers, weren’t people faced with death so intimate it screamed across their faces, but they wouldn’t say anything either. 

“Let’s move out.” He ignored the unasked questions, choosing to focus on the Eviscerator in his hand. His pistol was ready in case he ran out of clips, but he wasn’t expecting that to happen. Prepare for the worst. 

Working with EDI over the last week, he managed to integrate the defense matrix into the suit, increasing his shield regeneration rate and the strength. Additionally, the matrix could withstand his cloak, simultaneously engaged allowing him to step back and regen while still on the move. It was brilliant, and he hoped it lasted under fire. He could hop between targets, let Miranda and Jack take them out.

They moved slowly, walking down a long unwalked path. Jack took the lead, her fingers itching to press down upon. Kyle walked easily along, her body appearing effortlessness while her goggles scanned everything. Miranda stepped beside him, alternating between observing for any geth and glaring at him. 

“Commander, it is recommend that you avoid direct sunlight.” EDI’s voice came over comms. 

“No kidding,” Jack muttered. They had stopped in front of an area directly hit by the star. No shade offered cover from Dholern. 

“Run hard, run fast,” Shepard said. He pushed off, pressing forward as his ran. His feet pounded as warning systems rang out. Vaguely behind him the others followed, if Jack’s cursing was any indication. 

The radiation from the star sapped his shields. Sweat began to pour from his body, soaking his suit. The computers worked overtime, pumping out the heat and trying to re-stabilize the shields. He nearly fell to his knees, stopping in the shade. He wasn’t sure how much further he could run or how much more the systems could take. Behind him, Jack fell to the ground as Miranda and Kyle held themselves up against their knees. 

“Okay, new rule – avoid that,” Shepard said through his breaths. The systems of his armor started to regulate the heat, cooling his body down.

“Next person we recruit is on a beach, no negotiations,” Kyle said. 

“Drinks with tiny umbrellas in them,” Miranda said. 

“Men in tight swimsuits,” Jack added. All three women sighed at once. Shepard just rolled his eyes. This was not what he expected out these women, but they were human after all. Let them have their moment of fantasy, it wouldn’t hurt them at all in the long run. Still, wouldn’t hurt to knock them back to reality.

“If we’re done with the whimsy, can we move on?” His shields replenished, his body back at some equilibrium, he was ready to move forward. Ignoring their looks, he readied his shotgun with disrupter ammo. 

“Shepard, there is considerable Geth activity.” EDI always gave them the best news.

“Is the AI going to keep giving us information? Or let us work?” Kyle asked, disrupting him from trying to review the area before them. 

“Yeah,” Shepard said aimlessly. Vaguely, he heard Kyle whisper something about it being creepy, but at the moment, he was concerned with door blocking their path. To the side, he spotted a doorway, leading to what had to be an ancient gatehouse. “Let’s go.”

The door slid open easily, but the previous silence became filled by a quarian’s voice. First step into the room was hurried, but the second slowed at the site of a body slumped against the wall, omni-tool flaring with a message. 

“Emergency log entry. The geth are here. I’ve stayed to by the others times.” Silently swearing under his breath, he moved over to the bodies, checking them carefully before scanning the rest of the room. “Anyone who gets this, find Tali’Zorah. She and that data are all that matters. Keelah se’lai.” 

“Keelah se’lai,” he whispered. The message began again, filling the silence with an echo of the dead. He made a quick copy of it, along with the data on the Quarian’s omni-tool. If there were other survives (God, he hoped there were), he’d give the data to them. 

“Shepard, we’ve got data on these parts, might be salvageable,” Kyle said. Her omni-tool already started, gathering the information for later examination. If anything was salvage, they’d make some extra funds off it. They found some spare medi-gel as well.

“If we’re ready, I can open the gate,” Miranda said.

“Do it,” he said. As the gate opened, he took the lead. Jack followed quickly, a smirk visible through her helm as if the battle before was a joyous occasion. For the young biotic, maybe it did, as he could see her letting loose and expending all of that pent up control. The others left the booth, waiting for him to give the order to enter the new area. 

“EDI, get me Garrus.” He needed to check on the other team first before they engaged anything. 

“Little busy here Shepard,” Garrus said. The comm carried gunfire over the waves as well. “Seems the Geth were prepared.”

“They already took out some quarians, I doubt they were expecting us. Stay safe.” There were no orders to be given at the time. Garrus would know what to do. He hoped Tali was still alive, but given the quarian’s orders, they would lay their lives down for her. He only hopes she didn’t need to lay her life down. And now he felt guilty for wanting to ask her to go on a suicide mission.

“For the love of…” Shepard let his voice trail off at the sight before them.

Sunlight pored over the area with sparse structures broken, leaving shade smattered along the closest side and the furthest. Mentally, he calculated distances and spaces, trying to determine whether or not he could sprint the distance. With armor, it was pushing it. A catwalk cut across the middle, but it was drenched in sunlight, making it either very dangerous or extremely useful. Off to the right, he spotted another doorway. If the plans of the complex were even close to accurate, then that doorway was their best shot at finding survivors.

Before he could direct them toward it, a blast rocked a pillar providing shade in the area. The blast knocked them back slightly as several geth landed in the sun. The drop ship flew off, no doubt making a turn to drop more reinforcements. Without any organics, the radiation wouldn’t faze them. As he dove for cover, another rocket destroyed the base of the pillar, knocking it over to block their way.

“Light ‘em up!” Shepard popped out of cover, firing off a round with his shotgun. The blast knocked a geth off its feet. The two behind it moved forward, firing off rounds at them. His shield began to drop as he engaged his cloak. 

Kyle and Miranda stuck to their guns, mowing down the two remaining geth as he ran forward. Just as the drop ship flew by again, he readied a snap freeze, though for him, that meant dodging backward as the geth landed at his feet. 

Bullets whizzed past him, but his cloak and shields held. With only seconds left for his cloak, he let loose a blast of super-cooled air. The snap freeze caught the geth off guard, instantly freezing the one in front of him, but doing some damage to the mechanical systems of the others. Unfortunately, a Prime stood up from behind the frozen geth.  
Miranda’s overload only prompted the prime’s shields to flicker once before turning to take her out. His cloak still was recharging, same with his snap-freeze. The others were scrambling for cover, trying to dodge the sunlight and the shots. 

“Shit,” Shepard said. He prepared the defense matrix, just in case. All it would take would be a twitch of his fingers, which may be all the time he had.  
Standing up from cover, he rushed the prime. Firing several disrupter shots, he watched the prime’s shield dissolve into the ether as it turned toward him. 80% Accelerated bullets ricocheted off his shield, depleting the kinetic barrier. 63% He kept firing, keeping track of the strength of his shield as he tried to fight a losing battle. A heavy shot fired at his center of mass, but the others hadn’t recovered quite yet. Taking the shot in the gut, he grunted as his shields dropped to dangerous lows, even for him. 13% He fell to the ground, panting as tried to draw a breath. The prime stayed focused, firing even as it deployed another combat drone. 5%

As his shields fell, he flexed his fingers. His omni-tool flared, whirling and buzzing as it converted matter into energy. 25% Rolling out of the way from another shot, he heard Miranda and Kyle coordinate their attacks. 75% Behind cover, he jumped to his feet, aware of his shield as he reloaded another clip into his Eviscerator. Even as he moved out of cover, even as Miranda unleashed another overload of energy on the prime, his own shield kept climbing. 125% Firing several more rounds, the prime stumbled. It attempted to fire another heavy shot at him. 150% Stepping into the sunlight to avoid the shot, the defensive matrix continued to work against the radiation, steadily rising even under the onslaught of sun. 164% Diving back into shade, his HUD signaled his shield stabilizing, settling back down at one hundred percent. 150% He didn’t get a chance to get back into the fray as he watched three biotic fields crash into the prime, shredding it into four pieces. 100% Kyle waved from her cover, prompting him to salute in return. 

Jack threw a mass field, sending out shockwaves through the air. The several of the remaining geth left the ground, but the few with shields managed to withstand the blast. Kyle and Miranda fired off several shorts with their submachine gun and pistol respectively, targeting the ones in the air offline. He activated his cloak, slipping between crates and walls, as he moved toward the few left standing. 

The disrupter ammo made short work of the shields. As his cloak fell, he quickly pumped a round in the still standing geth. Shots rang out around him, pressing against in the kinetic barrier he just got back up. His HUD registered the loss, signaling him to hide or at the very least leave the line of fire.

“I will destroy you!” Jack’s voice echoed through the air. Ducking behind a crate, Shepard took his time reloading, letting Jack draw fire.

“She always like that?” Kyle asked. He wasn’t positive, but even in the midst of a firefight, the thief moved silently. It was unnerving. So far, Kyle proved extremely capable, surprising them all. 

As more geth were dropped off, she stood up, unleashing a biotic lash. The mass field twisted in the air behind before flicking forward with a deafening crack of air, grabbing a geth. The lash wrapped around it, squeezing past the shields before violently hurling it at the other geth that just landed. Even Miranda appeared impressed.

“Most of the time. Safest place to be around her is behind her.” He leaned out from cover, firing a round off with his pistol. The shot hit the eyestalk of a geth, the light flickering momentarily before completely darkening, but somehow it kept moving forward.

“I heard that,” Jack grumbled as she fell next to him. She held out her hand, silently demanding a clip. “Safest place around you is standing on another planet.” He really couldn’t argue with that. 

“Har, har,” Shepard said, faking a laugh. Kyle didn’t seem to have a problem, giggling even as the geth bore down on them. He handed her one of the few spare clips he had, hoping this was the last squad for a bit. 

“Jack!” Miranda warped a large destroyer hulking toward them along with another group that just landed. It was unshielded, but the warp field barely slowed it down. The field flickered around it, refracting the sunlight bearing down on them. Jack popped up from her spot next to him, throwing her own field at it. 

All soldiers are taught what happens when two divergent mass fields meet: one massive explosion. Anything in the immediate vicinity of the explosion is often thrown with the combined force of both fields. Stronger the biotic, stronger the field. Stronger the field, the bigger the explosion. 

Given Jack’s incredible abilities and Miranda’ own impressive biotics, Shepard had little time to respond. Grabbing Kyle by the back of her suit, he pulled her behind the crate. He peaked over the crate as the two fields met. The explosion compressed before it expanded quickly, the blues and purples of the fields disappearing and reappearing as the force tore the destroyer apart. The pieces of the destroyer flung into the other geth, becoming shrapnel and shredding the geth as well. The force of the explosion rocked their crate, and he felt it shake him as it passed.

Standing up, he stared at the remaining wreckage. “Nice job ladies.” Both women wore smug smiles. The smiles quickly disappeared once they noticed the other looked happy. Glares quickly replaced smiles.

“That all of them?” Kyle asked.

“For now,” Shepard said. He pressed his omni-tool, sending a wave to the other team. “Garrus, how are things going?”

“Fine.” Garrus’s voice came through their comms. “Grunt’s collecting geth heads.” Jack’s eyes widen at the turian’s words.

“No,” Shepard said, trying to keep the smile of his face.”

“But,” Jack started pleading as much as her personality would let her.

“I’m not letting you put another AI on my ship,” Miranda said, interjecting her opinion into her the situation. Before Jack could explore on the “cheerleader,” Shepard had to step in. Again.

“Your ship?” She couldn’t see it, but he raised an eyebrow questioning Miranda’s statement. She at least looked abashed by her statement before nodding in recognition of mistake (whether directed at Jack or her statement about the ship, he wasn’t sure). “And no, because Grunt isn’t keeping his either.” She looked ready to argue, but he stopped her before she could. “I’ll vouch for your kills. What is it? Nine?” That seemed to placate both women, though they returned to glaring at one another. 

“You broke up a perfectly good cat fight,” Kyle said. “You’re no fun.”

“Not really.” He motioned toward a garage across from the now blocked doorway. “The sun shouldn’t hit us from there. Let’s see if there is anything in there we can use.” He was referring to clips, but his HUD signaled a loss of materials for another revitalizing matrix. Might as well search for some more in there as well. “Might be more quarians there as well.”

“Think the others found any yet?” Miranda aksed as they ran into the garage. Dohlern shifted, rising higher in the sky. They would have to move and fight faster if they wanted to survive. With the star inching higher, whatever cover they may have had would be dwindling. Cover remained nonvital to the geth. Their metallic bodies could within the radiation. But for organics, the suits wouldn’t offer much protection.

The garage held several old vehicles, probably from the time when the quarians first tried to settle the planet. There were no signs of quarians, but a console stood off to the side. There might be some information there for them to use. 

“No, but my gut says they won’t,” Shepard said. “Kyle-“

“Selena,” she corrected. She half-glared, half-sex stared him into saying her first name.

“Selena, start scanning the area. See if you can find anything indicating the quarians’ intentions or how we could get past that pillar.” Treating her as a soldier - by referring to her by her last name - created distance between them. It allowed him to disregard the potential cost of the suicide mission, if he just thought of her a soldier. First names prevented that distancing, or at least, made it more difficult. Regardless of thinking of them like soldiers, he always got to know his teammates. If only to carry memories of them when they passed. “Miranda, Jack, start searching for supplies. Anything of use, like more clips, would be great. I’ve got some spare room, but take only what you can carry.”

Jack gave him a flippant salute before heading to the back of the garage. Small crates and debris flew out from behind one of the vehicles. Hopefully she would find something useful in her destruction. Miranda chose to bunker down near the door, her eyes steadily tracking for movement not supposed to be there.

“Commander.” Shepard turned toward Selena. The thief was bent over a console staring at a screen that appeared. “The quarians left a message.” She tapped her omni-tool, restarting the message

“Maybe we can use the explosives to bypass the debris.” Tali’s image appeared on the screen and his celebrated. The time stamp stated only a day or so prior to their arrival. She was resourceful enough to survive. All quarians were. “Shepard did something similar when we saved Liara. The ones left here will work, but need more. Maybe the storage area has some.” He smiled at the mention of his friend. 

“Thank God,” Shepard whispered. She even was directing them. The storage may be across the sunlight, but they could hopefully move fast enough.

“Shepard, incoming!” Miranda said. Her warning gave him enough time to engage his cloak as a destroyer landed in front of them. While nowhere near as dangerous as a geth prime, it still wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. But with each mission, they got closer to ending this chaos. Maybe then he’d get a chance to actually take a walk in a park.

**I0I**

**To: Jacqueline Nought (jkz0_67345@ward57.cit.pub)**

**From: Martha Kent (martha.kent@smallville.civ.pub)**

**Subject: RE:…**

Dear Ms. Nought,

_Thank you for saving my son. He is a stubborn boy, but I’m glad there was someone there to help him when he needed it._

_Ms. Nought, you are a good person. Don’t let anyone, not even yourself tell you otherwise. Good people step up and help, without care for reward or recognition. You did that and there are no words or gifts I can give to repay you._

_Except my son told me you could use someone to talk to, to listen. He hasn’t told me everything you can do, but since you fixed my son, you must be different from everyone else. Forced to do things that you never really wanted to do, but had to survive. My husband and I did our best to protect Clark and show him that he can do good on his own terms, be his own person and still use his gifts for good._

_I am here to listen for you, to vent (though I would appreciate it if you could reduce the amount of swearing). My husband and I helped Clark deal with his problems and his inability to relate to anyone else. I’m not always sure if we succeeded, but there are times when I know he turned out to be a good man._

_And I know you can be a good woman. Just trust yourself to do the right thing and believe in yourself._

_Sincerely,_

_Martha_


	9. In peace, nothing so becomes a man

**From: Ashley Williams (ashley.m.williams@star.mil.sa)**

**To: John Shepard (*REDACTED*)**

**Subject: Hey there.**

_Shepard-_

_I'm sorry for what I said back on Horizon. When I lost you two years ago, it tore me up. I prayed for you every day. I read a lot of Tennyson, thinking about you, just like I did when my dad passed. And then you came back, and it was like my prayers were answered. But I'm not who I was then, and neither are you._

_I don't know what's true anymore. Part of me can't believe it's really you. I keep going back to that night before Ilos, our night... I haven't let myself think about those memories in over a year._

_I wouldn't have expected you to work for Cerberus, but I know why they sent you to Horizon. I saw how many people were lost there, and if anyone can stop the Collectors, you can. I can't go where you're going, but I can wish you luck._

_They are sending me out with a new crew, new mission. The Alliance is going to do something. You made them act, and the least I can do is support you in the one way I can. I can’t say much more than that - given the lack of security - but for now know there are people out here who believe you and are working to stop the Collectors as well. We may not be able to do everything you can, but we certainly are going to try and help._

_Just stay alive out there... Skipper. I don't know what the future holds, but I can't lose you a second time._

_\--Ash_

_Death closes all: but something ere the end_  
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,  
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

**I0I**

            Paperwork was the bane of every soldier and every grunt in the galaxy. Didn’t matter your race, your allegiance, your beliefs: A minute spent doing paperwork was a minute wasted.

            Instead of going right back to talk about this with Clark, Ashley had been waylaid by Councilor Anderson and Admiral Hackett, discussing her role and position upon the Tunisia as executive office to the green captain, one Mister Clark Kent.  Part of her only believed that she was working on this because of her connection with Shepard, while the other part thought she got the job because she managed to convince Clark to come along. Whatever she attributed the new position to, she was being used, and given the paperwork, she didn’t like it.

            Regardless, she had new orders. She showed up, bright and surly, at 0750 at the designated elevator for her meeting with the STAR Labs crew at 0800, standard galactic time.  She managed to get there on time, but without coffee or breakfast. The elevator was off the main stretch and too far from the Alliance barracks for her, though most of her lack of fucks could be attributed to waking up too late and missing chow.

            Ashley tried to keep her glare to a minimum, staring at the floor as she entered the elevator. Her hopes of a quiet right to STAR Labs were dashed, as another pair of boots entered her line of vision.

            “Good morning,” the soft, but chipper voice said. Ashley tore her eyes from the floor to meet the slightly manic, but overly happy woman’s eyes staring at her. “Aren’t you excited?”

            “About?” She wasn’t sure who this woman was, or how to respond. Anderson said no one outside of the team was supposed to know what they were doing (with the excepting being Shepard if she could trust him).

            The woman was about her height maybe an inch or two taller, but had a gymnast’s body, lithe and nimble. She swayed slightly, her body buzzing with energy as her blond pigtails bounced.

            “The new mission.” The woman’s face quickly transformed from exceptionally excited to exceedingly worried. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself first. Dr. Harley Quinzel.”  She didn’t wait for Ashley to respond, taking her hand and pumping it a few times in an over-excited shake. “Doctor W said I could go along. This is my first mission since he saved me.”

            “Your first mission?” Ashley asked. She struggled to follow the non-linear thoughts of the woman besides her. The blonde nodded, her pigtails whipping around.

            “Yeah,” she said, “I used to work for the Red Hood Gang, but we had a falling out.” The happiness faded from her eyes and her face, but she quickly threw up a mask so obvious even Ashley caught it. “But enough of that. I read your file.”

            “Wait, who are you?” Ashley said as the elevator came to a stop. She wasn’t allowed to carry her gun on the Citadel, otherwise she probably would have drawn it on the crazy woman here.

            “She’s the team’s on-board psychiatrist and threat analyst.” Dr. Wayne sat in front of the opening doors, glaring at the blonde. “And she’s late.” Instead of looking chagrined or embarrassed, as Ashley would have, Dr. Quinzel smile only grew wider at the sight of the director.

            “But Doctor W, I was escorting the nice Alliance lady,” Dr. Quinzel said in a child’s voice. What kind of show did she sign up for?

            “But that doesn’t excuse tardiness. And that means a punishment,” Dr. Wayne spun in his chair and wheeled off. “I’m going to let Pamela know.”

            “No, it’s supposed to happy fun night!” Dr. Quinzel ran after him. Ashley stood there for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what happened and all she could think of was that some elaborate sex game was just played out in front of her.

            “You’ll get used to them.” Ashley turned to the voice, finding a young man barely out of his teens walked up beside her. His lean build rested against the white walls, but he didn’t take his eyes off the bickering Drs. Quinzel and Wayne.  “Dick Grayson, pilot.”

            “Operations Chief Ashley Williams, confused,” she admitted, shaking the man’s hand.

            “Again, you’ll get used to it.” The man laughed, and if he wasn’t at least ten years her junior, then she’d be asking him out for a drink at least. “Harley likes to play too much, so Bruce makes her take things a little more serious. Pam’s the other way: too serious too often.”

            “Wait, he’s with both of them?” Ashley asked. She found the whole thing incredulous.

            “Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that.” Dick didn’t look sorry at all. Quite the opposite as he smiled wider. “But the tabloids cover his love life enough.” Before he could say another word, the elevator behind them opened again. This time, Ashley let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight.

            Clark stepped off, smiling a boyish grin as he walked toward them. “Chief Williams, glad everything worked out with the Alliance?” He asked, easily catching up with long strides. Dick seemed to be of average height and Clark towered over the boy, let alone her.

            “Yeah, all set.” She said, returning his smile. “And I thought you were going to call me by my first name.”

            “Well…I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

            “The Director of STAR Labs is sleeping with at least two of his employees, one of whom is riding along with us.” She laughed at the red staining his cheeks. “I think calling me Ashley is okay.”

            “Okay, Ashley,” he said, smirking even through the blush, “then you’re okay with me leading this?”

            “Can’t do worse than most of my COs,” she said. Dick’s chuckle brought them out of their conversation.

            “Oh, yeah, this is going to be great.” Dick smile grew wider, his gaze moving between the two of them like they were tossing some ball around. 

            “And you are?” Clark held out his hand. The man immediately took control of things, intentional or not, and Ashley had to admit it was kind of hot.

            “Dick,” he said. He shook the offered hand, still smiling.  “I’m your pilot. And Bruce let me watch the feed from your testing yesterday. This is going to be awesome.”

            “Okay,” Clark said, drawing the word out. He appeared to be as confused about the excitement for the mission as she was. “Can you lead us to the meeting room?”

Despite the question, Clark seemed to easily give the direction, and Dick seemed almost eager to follow. Maybe he would be a good captain. Just have to teach him how to handle making the hard choices and the aftermath of those choices.

            Soldiers, especially officers, received some training for the gruesome situations they faced. Training and debriefing help, and even then, most of soldiers were forced into therapy for being unable to deal with the situations they were placed in. She had seen her share of the elephant these last few years, but Clark barely reacted to the attack on Horizon.

            “We good?” Ashley kept her voice low, walking behind Dick as he led them down the hallway. “

            “Why wouldn’t we?” Clark appeared just as confused as he was yesterday when she met him down at the Presidium Commons.

            “How about from Horizon?” She asked. Now that the thought popped in her head, it wormed about, shadowing her as she tried to concentrate on the mission.

            “No one was hurt too bad. I mean, I wish we could have saved more,” he said. His steps slowed slightly, but with his long legs, she still had to scramble slightly to keep up.  Being short had its disadvantages. “but…” His voice trailed off. Even with being as emotional retarded as she was, she caught the pain.

            This was why they received the training: Soldiers had to make choices, had to decide who could be saved, and who couldn’t.  Sometimes they had days or hours, sometimes only seconds, but soldiers had to live with those choices. And had to live with the fact their decisions let someone die.

“You can’t save everyone,” she said. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked surprised, like the concept was foreign to him. “You’re no superman.”

“But I am,” he whispered. Ashley refused to admit it allowed, but he was right: He was a superman. There wasn’t anyone who could have survived the attack Shepard described. She briefly wondered if he could leap over the pre-fab units. “And I have to.”

“Then let’s go make sure we can save everyone,” she said. Clark had to drop the thoughts, at least for now.  She didn’t know what else to say to him. Despite the funk he was in, he wore armor not unlike Shepard. But Shepard hid his pain from everyone. Clark shared his with her.

Maybe they did need to have that drink.

“Yeah.” Clark resumed walk, leaving Ashley standing there to rebound for the conversation. How did she always attract this type of men?

Dick was waiting by a doorway, far enough away to not listen in to the conversation, but close enough so they didn’t get lost. Thoughtful kid, but if he worked for Wayne, then this ‘being seen, not heard’ spiel was routine for him. Still, Clark gave the kid a smile and a pat on the shoulder, affirmation of thanks that seemed to brighten up Dick’s already happy face.

“Thank you Dick,” Wayne was at the head of the table, going over another set of screens. He looked distracted, but Ashley figured the man observed everything happening around him, even if he didn’t appear to be. It unsettled her a bit, but for now, he was certainly a better option than Cerberus.  “Kent, Chief Williams. Are you ready?”

“Just waiting on the dock to send my stuff to,” Ashley said. Clark had stepped behind her, pulling the chair out of her. She sat before she even noticed his actions.

On the other side of the table sat Quinzel and a middle-age man. Quinzel seemed to be trying to engage him in a conversation while the man humored her. Apparently, Dick was right. You do get used to it. Her behavior was normal enough for the regular staff to be used to it, so she could only hope she got used to the craziness here as well.  

“Kent, glad you made it,” the man said. He reached across the table to shake Clark’s hand. “Chief Williams, heard a lot about you.”

“By that he means he read the file the Alliance sent over,” Dick added. Emerald  eyes narrowed, but Dick was unfazed by it.

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant,” the man said. “John Stewart, former marine. Now, I run the weapons’ testing and design section.”

“You served?” Ashley asked. At least there would be another soldier here. She could handle soldiers.

“Yup, up ‘til the Skyllian Blitz,” he said, proudly. “Was on leave when they first attacked.”

The Skyllian Blitz was one of the largest assaults on a human colony prior to Eden Prime. Elysium had been considered an alpine paradise, but had previously been attacked by pirates and mercs. It came to a head in 2176, when a group pirates, slavers and batarian warlords lanched an attack into Skyllian Verge. Elanos Haliat intended to use the attack as a way to gain control over the Terminus Systems’ pirate bands, but unfortunately for him (fortunately for the Alliance) marines on leave rallied with civilians to hold out against the pirates until reinforcements arrived.

She had been on another planet, restricted to the ground forces and a grunt at the time. Being at Skyllian Blitz would have saved her family name, but she never would have gotten the chance. She never would have until, by chance, she met Shepard. And since then, slowly but surely, she was digging the mud out from around her name.

“You leave before or after Torfan?” Despite the triumph at Elysium, Torfan remained a dark spot in Alliance history.  The devastation brought on by Alliance forces against the small moon overshadowed any good it would have done.  So many forces on both sides were lost.

She had been lucky to still be in the mud with the Alliance when they arranged that foolish attack.

“After,” Stewart said. He shook his head. “Followed so many bad decisions. But those damn batarians...” Shepard shared that view, most soldiers did, but Ashley couldn’t bring herself to condemn an entire species. No matter how militaristic or domineering they were.  She understood standing up for your own race, and she believed humans needed to protect their own. But attacking other races out of spite and anger?

“We won’t be doing anything of that nature here,” Clark said. “We’re here to save lives, not take them.”

“Some people need killing,” Stewart said. Clark’s face morphed into a glare, and Stewart tried to match it before the director interrupted Clark’s attempt to continue the conversation.

“Maybe they do, but that’s not why we’re here,” Wayne said. With a wave of his hand, his screen shifted to a galactic map, spanning the table. “We are here to discuss the recent signal STAR Labs analyzed.

“This signal originated from a system within Argos Rho cluster. The originating system is unknown at this moment, but we believe it to be from an uncharted planet.” The cluster in question became the focus of the map, revolving so everyone could see it. “Current speculation is the signal is asari, however, we have found a base code unique to human language.”

“So, you don’t know who it is from?” Ashley asked.  She watched a women walk in, a cloak dropping from around her as she took the seat on the other side of Clark.  She held back at glare at the gall, but continued to pay attention to Wayne’s response.

“No. Unfortunately, we have not been able to clearly sort it beyond identification into a basic typology. We have determined it to be an S.O.S of sorts, though saving from what we are unsure. We have identified fragments referencing a collector, but singular, not plural.”

“Then why head there?” The woman spoke up. Goto. She recalled Wayne hiring the thief to assist on this mission. She wasn’t sure she wanted the woman watching her back. At least Harley played for their side, Goto was just a hired gun, in this for only one reason. She understood mercs, but she couldn’t trust them. Not when they just followed the money. Wayne picked her, so he must have some control over her. For now.

“Beyond the good will if it is an asari ship?” Wayne stared her down for a moment. “We are going to head there because beyond the current Cerberus mission on Haelstom - a planet in a system on the Far Rim - there have been no other sightings of the Collectors. So while this may be a shot in the dark, it is currently rated low-risk for the Alliance, allowing us to test this group.” Ashley nodded, accepting Wayne’s reasoning. They were untested and as much as she trusted Clark, she never fought with him and did not know how to react to him on the battlefield. She needed to know what all of them did.  As a marine, she expected Stewart to be the easiest to work with, and Harley could be useful as a biotic, but Goto and Clark were anomalies. It may be best to treat Clark like a vanguard, only without most of the biotics.  Smiling to herself, she began to look forward to their test run.

“Do we know if it is a trap or not? I’ve heard pirates hijacking signals to overtake ships.” Clark stared at the map, physically seeming to weigh the cost with saving someone.

“No, we don’t but as a low priority, low risk mission, this offers us the opportunity to test you in field conditions. Further, I’ve read all the reports Kent. There is no reason for you to be afraid of pirates of any type.”  Clark’s leveled stare only heightened the sense Ashley felt of being left out of the loop. It happened with Shepard quite a few times, but she knew enough to not question it here at least. Maybe after, once they were on board, she planned to ask Clark about his thoughts on the subject. Until then, waiting remained her only option.

“Now,” he waved his hand, changing the screen into a list of things or maybe it was an outline, “let’s talk logistics.” Ashley groaned as she leaned back in her seat. Clark chuckled besides her as he began to type away on the provided PADD at Wayne’s explanation.  At least someone would catch almost everything.

**I0I**

            His eyes lost focus as he tried to review the report Miranda sent up to him. They left Haelstrom nearly six hours ago, making headway toward a quick stop on Pragia, a planet somewhere in the Nubian Expanse. He wasn’t too sure of the exact location, but Jack provided to EDI, who gave it to Joker.  Jack wanted to destroy the center that she said made her into the bitch she was today. That stole her childhood from her.  Plant a big ass bomb in the middle of her cell and let the whole thing burn. Hell, after reading some of the files on the facility, he was tempted to do it himself. But Jack needed to put down some demons, a common theme amongst his crew it seemed.

Jacob mentioned a distress call that shouldn’t exist from a man who should be dead, his father. Shepard said they would hit tackle that, but Pragia was on the way to Illuim and they would swing around the verse. As soon as he accepted that, Jacob’s mood seemed to lift. A course of action was all the soldier seemed to need.  With it plotted out, he relaxed and returned to upgrading and cleaning the weapons of the crew.

But at the moment, he was more concerned with the memo Miranda sent to him, about the Illusive Man’s request. Or rather demanded.

The memo outlined a directive from the Illusive Man’s intentions to utilize any data developed from the crew’s efforts against the Collectors, including Mordin’s work on a suppressant. While Shepard understood an organization confiscation of information, Cerberus’ directive stipulated a clandestine approach to the collection. One Miranda pointed out to be an intrusion into the privacy of the crew members, and something she wished to speak with him about.

The report was sent to him nearly five hours ago, and he spent the time since reading it investigating everything the crew had accomplished since the start. And Cerberus had collected information from them, but from what he could tell, since Horizon, the information only partially represented the findings of the crew.

What game was Miranda playing? And was it on him or the Illusive Man?

“Commander, Operative Lawson is at your door.” EDI’s voice echoed through his cabin. Standing from his desk, he spun slightly and moved to let her in. Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

“Commander,” she said, staring him straight in the eye at first before glancing down at the PADD in his hand. “I believe I owe you an explanation.” He stepped aside, motioning toward the small seating area Cerberus added to the cabin.

“Yeah, you do.” He placed the PADD on the table.

“I spoke with Tali before I came up,” Miranda said. She was avoiding topic, or maybe getting to it in her own way. Her eyes stared at the collection of model ships he endeavored to complete.

His first therapy session after Akuze recommend mundane tasks to steady his hands and calm himself. After coming back to life and talking with Zaeed, he started it back up on the hobby. His hands steadied more than before Horizon, but he couldn’t stop the rush of battle. At the Citadel, he sent Kelly to pick up copies of the Destiny Ascension, Sovereign and SSV Normandy. He was finished the Normandy SR-2, which had been left in his cabin but remained untouched until recently. The Destiny Ascension rested up on the wall next to it, and he had the parts to Sovereign laid out on the desk.

“I know,” he said. Tali immediately contacted him about the meeting with Miranda, confused by the operative’s request of mundane information for Cerberus. That conversation took nearly an hour of Shepard listening to Tali vent about confusing, irritating agents out of his five hour investigation.

“The information she provided will placate the Illusive Man,” Miranda said, which she summarized in her report to him.

“Yes, it will,” he said.

“But it will not compromise any relationship you may or may not have with Ms. Vas Neema, or with the quarians,” Miranda continued.

“Tali was confused by that part, but I’m not,” Shepard leaned back on the couch. He crossed his arms, smirking at the small sign of confusion on her face before it fell behind the mask.

“Of course you wouldn’t be,” Miranda said. Her brow furrowed a little as she glared at him. He couldn’t hold back the smirk and let it bloom into a smile.

“I’m not confused because you understand that in order for this crew to work, we have to trust one another,” he said. “And to trust one another, we can’t be keeping secrets. Not about each other at least.”  

“You gave Jack the files, which she used to find the facility and we are heading there now,” Miranda said. He nodded at her statement, not surprised at the accuracy of Miranda’s observations.  “You offered Jacob the chance to chase a signal that may have nothing to do with his father’s disappearance, but are doing it anyway.”

“He didn’t mention you knew about his request,” he said. Shepard was surprised at the blush that briefly filled her face before she drew it back behind her mask.

“I may have been searching for it to repay a favor.”

“Must have been some favor.”

“I have a long memory,” she said. She relaxed slightly, her posture slackening ever so little as she leaned back into the chair.  “I wanted to show you I understood the importance of the team.”

“Show me? Or yourself?” Shepard asked. “You are the decisions you make, not the group you are a part of.”  Ashley and Kent seemed to spark this change. She didn’t care before the Horizon mission, but the mission unfolded the same way previous ones did: The outcome of Kent being brought on board changed them all it seemed.   He wasn’t sure how much he liked it or not, but at the moment, the changes seemed to be easing tensions on the ship, certainly making his life easier.

She nodded, adding nothing to his statement about her behavior. “Do you remember our conversations about my sister?”

“Oriana? Of course.” In a few candid conversations, Miranda spoke about her concerns about Oriana, another genetically modified individual, who happened to possess the same genetic code as Miranda but was several years younger. Miranda called Oriana her sister and stole her away from a repressive father.

“I need your help moving her,” Miranda said. She glanced down at her hands which had moved from her lap and began to play with a bobble he left on the coffee table.

“Okay,” he said. It was a reasonable request, and given Miranda’s organizational skills, he figured it would be an easy task. Especially in comparison to the other things people were asking. He had only started the list with Jack’s and Jacob’s jobs, but completed a side mission for Zaeed and fully expected his other teammates to ask for assistance on one thing or another. Miranda’s request was not out of the ordinary, only her timing; he figured she would have spent more time constructing her argument, but it is possible time was a factor for her mission.

“It’s on Illium, so it wouldn’t be out of the way,” she said, continuing on as if he didn’t agree. “I just need to meet with my contact but if you could come and just stand there,” she waved at his entire body, “and be you.”

“Okay,” he agreed again.  She paused mid-word, her lips forming themselves around the word before she slammed them shut. His smirk leaked out and as she stumbled  to recover.

“That’s it?” The shocked express remained as he nodded affirmative. “You’ll help?”

“Yeah, it’s that simple,” he said. “Once we’re done at Pragia, we’ll be heading to Illum to pick up our last two recruits.  That should be about two weeks? Is that too late?”

“No, that’s…I will schedule a meeting with my contact,” Miranda said, standing. “I will forward the information.” She left without another word, leaving him to return to his models and reports.  And she didn’t answer his question about her change in behavior.

Assisting the crew made sense. It made the mission easier to deal with in the long run, and stopped him from thinking too much on where they were heading.

**I0I**

**To: Martha Kent (martha.kent@smallville.civ.pub)**

**From: Jacqueline Nought (jkz0_67345@ward57.cit.pub)**

**Subject: RE: RE: …**

            _Mrs. Kent,_

_I guess I can try. I’m not sure what you want from me._

_We’re heading to where it all started, where I grew up. And I’m going to blow that place to hell. I hated it, every minute of my childhood, every watching me, glaring at me. I was just a kid, and they didn’t help me._

_But I got out, and now no one hurts me again._

_Except I have to go back there, take the place off the map._

_I’ll let you know how it goes._

_Thanks, I guess, for listening._

_Jack_


	10. The Adventure Begins

            The Tunisia traveled for nearly a week, giving Clark more than enough time to study up on Alliance and STAR Labs procedures.  Even a quick glance at the material provided enough information to conclude Wayne’s unorthodox methods swung against Alliance regulation. Ashley was kind enough to confirm it, given the brief tirade she went on once she finished reading all the material herself. Eventually, she admitted Wayne’s plan for the ship provided her an opportunity to ‘take the fight to the bugs.’ But placing him in charge seemed to be asking for trouble, at least in his mind.

            When he wasn’t studying the rules and regulations of the alliance (further appeasing him of his choice), he tried to get to know the other crew members, especially Barbara Gordon, their engineer, and Dr. Pennyworth, the crew’s physician.  Neither of them attended the meeting, but both were more concerned with how the ship ran, rather than their designated mission.

           Barbara was Dick’s age or maybe a few years younger (he avoided reading the personal information), and seemed to enjoy pissing off their pilot with their on-again-off-again relationship. Pennyworth worked for Wayne for years before accepting this assignment, claiming only he could keep Dick out of trouble. Both eventually explained to him Dick’s role as pilot would likely expand to field work if the young adult got his way and Clark’s job was to prevent that from occurring.  

           “Master Grayson seems to have it in his head he is a born adventurer,” Pennyworth said. From talking with the older man, Pennyworth worked for Wayne for years before agreeing to be a part of this project. A family doctor, Pennyworth admitted to being the one who treated Wayne immediately after the accident which cost him the use of his legs as well as looked after Dick while the boy was Wayne’s ward. “But he does not have the self-preservation of one. Master Wayne will not ask for it, but I am sure he would appreciate your oversight.”

           “Not one for leaving an avenue unpursued, huh?” Clark asked. Pennyworth gave a look, one that he had seen sent Dick’s way a few times after the pilot did or said something stupid. “Answered that question.”

           Barbara, as she insisted on being called (not ‘Babs,’ despite Dick’s efforts), stayed mainly down in the engine room, only coming out for meal times. When he first spoke, they ended upon in a long discussion on Earth literature, but what really surprised him was her casual reference to a back injury that left her paralyzed for her formative years.  Wayne worked with her, and apparently whatever treatment he used succeeded.  Clark watched a few times as Barbara bent over and around some of the equipment in an effort to maintain them.

           “Family of circus performers,” he commented to Ashley, who agreed after watching Dick and Barbara spar with Harley.

           All three of them twisted and torqued their bodies in moves reminiscent of at least a dozen different martial arts forms. He guessed on that, with what limited knowledge he had, but he watched them take down John a few times. Still one punch from John was often enough to send any of the three reeling, if he could land it. He didn’t want to let them know how slow they moved to his eyes or how easy it was to snap their limbs.

            “Captain, you may want to come to the bridge.” Dick’s voice carried over the intercom, snapping Clark from his thoughts. Being addressed as ‘captain,’ even a civilian one, still seemed odd to him.

            The elevator immediately dropped him to the second level, where the communications room, science lab, and command center were all situated. Striding off the elevator, several pieces of equipment turned to watch him as he passed by. Oracle, the virtual interface which ran almost everything on the ship, kept constant watch, though Clark managed to convince the VI to allow them some privacy. Especially after catching Dick sneaking down to visit Barbara one evening.

            “What’s up?” Clark asked. He moved to stare at the console Dick sat at. Several indicators were flashing and the pilot continually tapped the screens.

            “We’ve arrived ahead of schedule,” he said. “Oracle’s got the images on screen.” He pointed to his right, where a screen appeared out of mid-air.

            “The distress signal originated from the fourth planet from the sun, though the planet remains in the Goldilocks zone,” Oracle contributed as the image began to focus on the planet before them. “Optimal scans inconclusive at this distance, recommended course of action: approach and begin scanning planet for life.” Clark nodded, staring at the screen for a moment before training his gaze on front view port, where the fast approaching planet grew larger. His other senses dimmed as he focused his vision to get a better look of the world

            Clear, blue oceans surrounded the continents (four of them), with only one having visible buildings from space (to anyone else’s eyes – he counted seven cities covering several miles). He couldn’t see the people clearly, but from this distance he knew it would be feasible. White clouds swirled and twirled around the atmosphere, with a large storm brewing in the southern hemisphere. Hurricane, possibly, but he did not study weather sufficiently enough to fully understand the phenomenon. Otherwise, the clouds peppered the landscape, painting a contrast to the colors of planet.  Despite the seven cities, the planet looked undisturbed, at least from a distance. Maybe Earth would have appeared as such several thousand years ago, before the industrial revolution.

            “Any signs of space-faring civilizations?” Clark asked, bypassing any questions of civilization. Dick glanced over his shoulder, staring at the captain as Oracle focused the image upon the largest city. Still too far out to make clear all of the details, it was obvious the planet was inhabited, but they could not identify by whom.

            “Umm…”

            “Sending out signals on all channels,” Oracle chimed in before Dick could finish his thought. Clark still wasn’t used to the VI, but Wayne said it was the best in current technology this side of artificial intelligence. He wasn’t sure if he believed Wayne, but for now, he had no choice.

            As he stared out the viewport, he tracked the movement on the ship. Harley was already a few steps behind him, her heart frantically beating along its own rhythm. Ashley was headed up his way while John moved toward the armory. Barbara and Pennyworth remained at their stations, focused on their assigned tasks, though Clark did catch Dick sending a message out to her, if his keystrokes were anything to go by.

            “It’s beautiful, isn’t it Harley?” Clark asked without turning around.  When he did, he caught the look of surprise on her face.

            “Dammit, how do you do that?” She stomped her foot once like a petulant child. He shrugged his shoulders, turning back to hide his smile.

            “Response received. Decoding. Translating.” Oracle interrupted Harley from commenting any more.

            “That was quick.” He said.

            “That’s what she said!” Harley yelled, doing a little ‘happy’ dance.

            “You really need to stop walking into those,” Dick said, smiling at bit as Harley started to really get into her dance. Oracle broke the levity, the mechanical voice echoing through the ship.

            “‘You are in Amazonian space. Leave immediately.’”

            Clark kept staring out into space, watching the planet spin in nothingness. People, regardless of race, were defenders, through and through. They had homes, lives, loved ones.

            “Oracle, transmit back their distress signal, followed by a decoded one, and then repeat it with one of ours. Repeat this twice then wait. Dick, maximum energy to the shields and get me a comm.”

            “Aye aye.” Dick’s hands moved like rivers, flowing over the controls with speed and grace.

            “I’ll just go and…find a seat,” Harley said, backing out. Her heartbeat carried her away down back to the living quarters. Dick signaled the prepared comm, pointing toward it on one of his view screens.

            “All hands, brace for impact,” Clark said. First course of action as captain, besides getting them out here, and he prayed he didn’t get them blown up. 

            “Transmission complete.”

            “Let’s hope they figure it out,” Clark muttered. Heartbeats of the crew fluttered about, moving toward safe positions on the ship, or at least he thought they were safe spots. He tried to memorize the schematics, but got bogged down in the technical aspects, making it difficult to assess every location.

            Just as he stretched his eyes to scan the surface, he tried to focus on outside of the ship, searching for the location of the incoming vessel.  The star burst through his vision, blinding him.  Before he could even blink, he stumbled backward.

            The light bursting from star, filling up the void through space, piercing the atmosphere of the planet…felt familiar. Like an old friend reaching out and brushing away the soot and grime. As the sensation wrapped around him, filled him up, he felt his body shudder.

            No, not his body, the ship.

            “Starboard. Initiating random oscillation of shields.” Oracle broke him out of his thoughts.

            “Seems you were right.” Dick barely took his eyes off the consoles, but he heard Ashley’s heartbeat approaching.

            “Didn’t want to be.” Ashley propped him back up, as the ship rocked with another blast of weapon fire. “We got a target?”

            “Waiting on the Captain,” Dick said.

            “Scan of ship complete. Weapons systems and non-life support systems targeted.” Oracle spoke over Dick. The pilot continued on. His fingers flew over the controls, spinning the ship on its y-axis. A sleek, crystalline vessel appeared through their ports, dancing from starboard to aft and back again. Even a quick glimpse matched it up with the image Oracle projected in the center of the cock-pit. 

            “Fire…spread Delta-Indigo…”  He struggled to recall the appropriate command as the echoes of hearts bounced through the Tunaisa. He rested his weight against the entryway, trying to maintain a facade of strength.

            “Charlie.” Ashley added. They lurched forward as the vessel moved out of their visual range.

            “Delta-Indigo-Charlie.” Clark watched the screen before them flash as volleys were released from their holds.  The image of the vessel flashed several times.

            “Shields holding. 83%. Distress signal transmission complete.” Clark let his eyes stretch again, staring past the hull of the ship. The star blinded him for a moment, but once that moment stretched beyond infinity, he saw.

            “Their weapons systems are down,” Clark said. A pain settled in his skull as he concentrated. Their systems were not unlike their own, but somehow different.

            “What? How do you…” Dick’s voice trailed off as his mind edited out the sound. All sounds briefly disappeared as Clark balanced viewing the alien vessel and trying to absorb the starlight.

            Women, or what appeared to be women, worked frantically upon the vessel, moving from one station to the next. Smoke that would have obscured anyone else’s vision only forced him to filter out more information. The women appeared in shades of white and grey. At first, Clark thought his eyes failed him, but as he watched them, he realized it was their appearance, their skin tone. Internally, the species had a cellular structure not unlike asari, but hints of differences existed. Not as strong regeneration and despite only one sex appearing, they had reproductive organs similar to that of human females. But again, all white. Not the white attributed to human skins, but the absence of color.

            “Clark?” Ashley’s voice forced him back to the Tuniasa. He blinked once, twice, thrice before his eyes returned to ‘normal,’ or the normal that most humans’ perceived.

            “Incoming transmission.” Oracle broke the long silence. Time-wise, less than sixty one seconds passed, just over a minute.  “Propulsion systems disengaged. Enemy vessel now stationary.” Clark let out a long, slow breath, trying to figure out if he was going to get them all killed or not.

            “Got it on screen,” Dick said, motioning toward it. He kept throwing looks over his shoulder, as if trying to read Clark in only a few glimpses.

            “Translating.”

            A woman from vessel appeared before them, glaring at them. Without the glare, she looked even more like a carved statue. Like Leah or Rachel or the Pieta, but somehow more beautiful and ethereal. Her hair, for lack of a better term, flowed just like humans did, but appeared to be shades of whites and greys. She brushed it out of her face, a scar carved down her left check, cracked like worn masonry.

            “What trickery do you cowards employ!” The woman screamed.

            “Ma’am, we received a distress-” Clark started to speak, trying to explain the situation, only to be cut off.

            “What type of demon are you?” White, apparently pupil-less, eyes glared at him, as if to burn a hole in his chest.

            “Demon?” Ashley whispered.

            “Ma’am, I am Captain Clark Kent of the Tuniasa,” Clark said, this time speaking over her demands. “We received a distress signal from this location. A signal we know we sent back, so please verify that with your crew.” He stood taller, shoulders forward as he met the woman’s glare.

            “We sent no such signal.” She spoke hesitantly. She glanced over her shoulder at someone off screen. “How did you come by this?” The frown etched into her face fell deeper into a scowl. “Answer me!” She slammed her fist into the arm of her chair.

            Before Clark had a chance to respond, a voice off screen spoke up. “Sir, transmission from the Queen.”

            “Translating.” Oracle spoke to them. Or at least, Clark hoped it was only to their crew. No need to antagonize the angry warrior women any more than they had.

            This was first contact, and despite reading through all of the material Wayne provided as well as most of the historical examples within the Alliance’s archives (including Ancient Earth), this was still so far out of Clark’s depth. This either was a test by Wayne or the man seriously overestimated Clark’s abilities.  He wasn’t even sure what a success was in this case, besides not getting them killed.  He tried to speak with Ashley about it, but she said something about the Contact War, turned bright red and refused to mention it again without vast quantities of alcohol.

            “Do not move cowards.” The woman glared at them for a moment before the screen turned black.

            “Seriously, what is with you and women?” Ashley asked with a smirk on her face. “Do you either just piss us all off or make us want to bed you?” Clark turned to stare at her, a response dead on his lips as she turned a shade of red he thought impossible without bleeding.  Dick spun in his chair, eyes wide and jaw down as he stared at her. Even with a bright red face, her glare put the alien woman’s to shame as she stared down their pilot. “Forget I said anything.”

            “Yes ma’am,” Dick said. He turned back around, not making a comment. She turned her glare on Clark.

            “Not one word,” Ashley said. She emphasized each word with a jab in his chest.  He didn’t even get a chance to formulate a response, which considering his luck was a good thing.

            “Transmission from the planet.”

            “Patch it through,” Clark said, not taking his eyes off Ashley. She seemed to calm down but wouldn’t make eye contact after her initial scolding.

            “Khairete Captain Kent.” Another alien sat on a throne.  Inhumanely still, she stared at them. Clark felt himself being measured, but by what standards he was unsure.  After a long, silent moment stretching the space between their vessel and the planet, the woman spoke. “I am Queen Hippolyta, Warrior Lord of the Amazons. I apologize for Artemis’ introduction. We have not seen men in this sector for nearly a millennium.” She spoke with pauses, her words calm and collected as she calculated each for every response her audience gave or did not.”

            “Greetings ma’am,” Clark said. “No one was injured, so everything is okay.” He took her openness and courteousness in stride, trying to hide his nervousness. “We apologize for our abrupt arrival, but we received a distress signal from these coordinates.”

            “Yes, we sent it.” After waiting for a moment, Clark realized he wasn’t going to receive any other statement from her about the situation. Not without continuing the conversation himself.

            “I apologize for the lack for formalities, but would it be possible to discuss this further in person?” He continued quickly as her eyes narrowed. “What I mean is there is so much we could learn from one another. A meeting between us would assist in explaining the situation.”

            “Unfortunately,” she started, her gaze moving off momentarily before returning toward the screen, “that would be impossible. No man has set foot on Themscryra.”

            “Okay,” Clark said, drawing out the words as he tried to think of a solution. “Would my executive officer be an acceptable envoy?” Clark motioned behind him to Ashley.

            “Sir?”  Ashley asked. The queen’s glare shifted off him, softening into simply an appraisal at the sight of his friend.  The queen stated no man has set foot, but did not specify women. Maybe for the Amazonians, it was the things not said that were more important than the words spoken aloud.

            “Yes,” Hippolyta said, nodding slowly. “That is most acceptable.” The harshness of her glares settled into a small smile, adding to her etherealness. “For your naivety, you learn quickly.”

            “Just trying to do my best, ma’am,” Clark said, returning her smile. “With your permission, I would also like to send two of my crew to accompanying Chief Williams.”

            “Sir?” Again, Ashley tried to interjection, but he ignored her.

            “Yes. I assume these crewmembers will be female?” Clark nodded at the question. Hippolyta motioned off-screen, likely directing some of her people “We shall prepare a room for them.  We shall expect your arrival within the next rotation of our planet.” The screen went black, cut off on the queen’s orders no doubt. Clark let out a held breath, letting his muscles relax. Thankfully, he wasn’t holding anything; otherwise it would have been crushed into nothingness.

            “Okay,” he said, turning toward Ashley, “now tell me I was wrong.”

            “What? Clark you can’t….What? Clark!” Ashley managed to get out. Her verbal explosion - the equivalent of his thoughts – expended itself as he tried to reconcile everything he just decided with what knew of the situation.  He guided her from the room, not wanting to embarrass her or himself any further than they already. She mostly did that herself, but the two of them arguing was not something to be done in front of the rest of the crew.

            Ashley headed toward the communication center. This was where he should have taken the call, but the situation escalated quickly. He was thankful they were able to get an audience with the Queen.

            “Seriously Clark….what were you thinking?” Ashley asked. Her voice was small as she spoke, her arms wrapped around her for an instance before she threw them down in anger. Her fists balled up, ready to expend some of the aggression on something.

            “I was thinking you were the only person I trusted on this ship,” Clark said. The truth worked best for Ashley. It worked through her emotions and walls, and prevented her from being blinded by the actions he (or others) may take. “What else did you expect?”

            Ashley leaned against a console, trying to appear relaxed when her body was filled with tension.  “You know my family’s history-”

            “No I don’t,” Clark said, cutting her off. “Wayne gave me the background on everyone, including you, but I didn’t read it.”  It threw her, and after blinking several times, she finally found her voice.

            “Why not?”  Ashley asked him, her eyes gently inquiring the real question: ‘Why trust her?’

            “Because you’re the first person to make me believe that I could make a difference.” Clark shrugged his shoulders. Walking over to her side, he rested against the same console, crossed his arms and stared at the doorway. “Seemed only right to extend the same to you.” That didn’t seem to be enough for her. She shuffled slightly, not quite resting against him, but not far away either.

            “Before I left home, someone told me that sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. The trust part comes later.” He thought back to the priest in Smallville, absently wondering if he was still there and what he would think of all this.  “You took a leap of faith to vouch for a country boy from Smallville. Well, I’m taking a leap of faith to support Operations Chief Williams.” She nodded, her gaze remaining on the floor. She relaxed a bit though, her body no longer as rigid with anger. He nudged her shoulder with his, rocking her slightly. She tore her gaze from the floor and glanced up at him. “Between you and me, I think my leaps are a little easily.”

            “Of course you have it easier, I’m there to get you out of trouble,” she said. His words bolstered her, confidence returning to her stance and gaze. She managed to maintain eye contact and whatever doubt she held on her shoulders lifted away.

            “Let’s hope I can do half as good a job as you do,” he said. “Now, how about we go brief Harley and Kasumi?”

            “Gonna get them to listen to me?” She stood up, and for the first time since they initiated first contact, appeared to regain some sense of presence. Before, she was just there, a part of the background, but now, with the mission in front of them, she seemed to step up and into the foreground.

            “No, I was hoping you could get them to listen to me,” Clark admitted. This got a laugh out of her as she walked away.

            Things were never going to be easy, but so far, for a first mission, they hadn’t been too bad. Besides, there were several things they could work on from up here. Starting with how much radiation the star output.

**I0I**

After preparing, and another brief pep talk from Clark, Ashley led the away team of Gato and Quinn. She hadn’t had the chance to work with them, but after reviewing their files and observing their training, understood enough to know both women preferred flexibility to security. She grabbed a sniper rifle, a M-98 Widow (how the hell Wayne got a hold of these, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t asking questions) and an assault rifle, a M-15 Vindictor.  Both should give her enough of an edge if they faced any resistance.

            Clark confided in her about a lack of confidence in the queen’s statements. Something was off, and looking back on the meeting between the queen and Clark, she had to agree. There was something off about all of this. The distress signal was only acknowledge by the highest person in the chain of commander – the Queen. And if only that person knew about it, then there was something only the Queen wanted.  The problem with gathering information was trusting her with it. She could handle gunfire and bombs, lasers and exploding ships, but not diplomacy and definitely not subterfuge.

            Arriving on the planet was easy. Oracle directed them to the landing zone, which looked like a formal hanger. Readings from the planet revealed Earth-like qualities, no observable bacteria or antibodies that would harm them. So, armed and some-what forewarned, Ashley led them out of the shuttle to meet the set of Amazons.

            The aliens were even more unnerving in person. Both stood impossibly still, their gowns draping over them like cloth on stone. Hung, but unmoving by the being.  Blank eyes stared at them, as if to judge them. Their bodies were perfect, almost as perfect as Miss Marble-Tits on Shepard’s ship, but Ashley wanted to keep that little thought to herself as long as possible. Beyond their designed perfection, there was something about the way they approached the shuttle, the way they stood at the bottom.  Like soldiers, perfect soldiers ready to burst into action at any moment.  As she stepped off the shuttle, her hands brushed the Vindicator. At first glance, they had superior weapons, but as they approached, Ashley reappraised the armament of the Amazons.

            The spears and shields they held were ancient by any standards, but something about the construction betrayed the design. Glimpses of amber light filtered through the tips of the metal spears, as if they were ready to do more than just pierce the skin (or armor) of their attackers. The shields glowed in a pattern, circling through gems along the edges of the inner ring. While not distracting, Ashley briefly wondered if they provided any benefit besides decorative before realizing that with a warrior race, nothing was simply decorative.   

            “Khairete travelers,” one of the alien women said. It was like meeting the asari for the first time all over again, except much colder…and violent.

            “Hi!” Quinn said, bouncing next to her.  Ashely made sure both of her companions were geared up for combat, and watching Quinn’s reactions, she started to wonder if giving a gun to the psychiatrist was a good idea: The heavy pistol wobbled from its holster, and one good bounce would let it drop to the ground.

            “…Hi,” the guard said.  The one next to her, black hair held back by gold bands, grinned at the woman’s antics.

            “I like these….humans,” the black haired one said.

            “You would Diana,” the other guard commented back. Her voice remained neutral, not condemning or conforming.  “Follow us. The Queen is expecting you.”

            “Best not to keep her waiting,” Ashley said, motioning for them to lead the way.

            “So how do those boxes work?” Diana asked, hurried alongside of them as the other guard guided them.

            “Umm…” Gato glanced at Ashley. “I’m not sure if we can explain how they operate. The Alliance has strict protocols for first contact.”

            “Not really,” Quinn added before Ashley could confirm Gato’s statement. “The Alliance has protocol, but really, it sums up to don’t be stupid and don’t make the brass look bad.” She removed her pistol that had been dangling from holster. Briefly, Ashley thought about which was more dangerous, Quinn’s mouth or the weapon in her hand.

            “So do how they work?” Diana asked, now more excited. Quinn began to explain, using the heavy pistol as prop. Ashley tuned it out, paying attempt to the path being woven by the other guard (who despite not wanted to appear interested, kept glancing back at Quinn and Diana). 

            The temple was tall and impractical, built not simply for defense but for grandiose. The same metallic colors covering the hanger carried through the temple. Something about it, the way the guards dressed, and even the artwork scattered amongst trophies of odd creatures was familiar.  She had seen pictures of Asari construction and artwork, and while similar, the temple reflected a different style. More defensive.  

            “All these things, unguarded and in the open,” Gato whispered besides her. Ashley shot the thief a look. She grinned beneath her hood, but nodded in understanding. Why the hell did Clark give her this job?

            “Wait here.” The guard stopped in front of a doorway which opened into a large room. Diana still stood next to Quinn, discussing how the weapons took advantage of a mass field. The baffled expression gave Ashley enough of an understanding of their technology to realize the Amazons would have no idea what any of that meant. Way to go, Williams. Introducing technology to a pre-field culture? Thank God she didn’t report to the Alliance directly anymore. She only hoped that Wayne didn’t shitcan her for this.

            “The Queen will see you,” the other guard spoke.  Ashley drew herself to her tallest and strode into the large room. Gato and Quinn followed behind her, flanking her position.

            At the center of the room, the queen sat upon a throne. She did not move, she did not speak, she did nothing as they approached. Ashley wasn’t even sure if the queen was watching them, but the sense of eyes upon her (multiple sets) filled her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood in warning. She hid the shake of her hands at the thoughts filling her mind: ‘this is not a safe place.’ Stopping in front of the immobile queen, she resisted the urge to grab the comforting grip of her assault rifle.

            “Thank you for your hospitality,” Ashley said, breaking the silence.

            “Leave us!” The queen bellowed. The queen’s lips moved while the rest of her body remained as still as anything Ashley had ever seen.  Guards that previously filled the hall fled, either in terror or courage. Whatever the reason for the fleeing, Ashley really was going to kick Clark’s ass for this assignment.

            “Not you Diana.”

            “Mother?” Diana stepped forward, her hand gripping the spear and shield tightly.

            “These…visitors are here on my request. Do you know why?”

            “You sent a signal to the Gods, and it was intercepted by them,” Diana said, glancing at their group.

            “No, and I wish I had more time to explain, but unfortunately,” the queen’ voice trailed off. She turned her gaze to Ashley. “I must ask you a favor. One that you undoubtedly would normally deny, but you have no choice but to accept.”

            “Ma’am?” Ashley reached back, her hands resting upon the rifle. Things definitely were not turning out well.

            The queen stared at them for a long time, and Ashley motioned to Gato and Quinn to start backing away. They took maybe a few steps before the queen spoke again. “It’s coming and we can’t stop it.” For the first time since hearing her voice, there was something other than neutral distain. A quiver of emotion reverberated through the empty temple.

            “Mother?” Diana’s voice echoed the crack.

            “I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop it.”  The queen stood from  her throne, her body moving gracefully down the marble steps.  “I tried everything. Prayed to the Gods, but by Hera, it wasn’t enough.” Her words betrayed the steel of her voice and steps.

            “Ma’am, what’s going on? We could help.” Ashley glanced back at Quinn and Gato. “Try and raise the Captain. See if they’ve got anything on sensors.”

            “It won’t work.” Gato hadn’t taken more than two steps before the queen spoke. “Transmissions are limited in here. Only those allowed by the Gods.” She motioned toward a room behind her before turning sorrowful eyes to her daughter.  “But it means we’re safe. For now.”

            “What is coming?” Ashley asked. “You mentioned ‘it.’ Are the Collectors coming here?”

            “No, only one. _The_ Collector.”

            Before Ashley could ask what she meant, a shot rang through the temple. The queen fell, her body bouncing off the steps of her throne. Ashley drew her assault rifle, moving in front of the queen and next to Diana who took up her shield and spear. Gato and Quinn both moved behind them, pistols draw. A statue, moreso than any other women Ashley had seen on the planet, walked toward them, but unlike the other women Ashley had seen, this one had metal covered parts of her face and body.

            “You were instructed not to contact anyone.” The statue spoke with in spurts, like someone was typing out its words. Even Oracle spoke more fluidly than that. But underneath the horrific

            “Adelphe, what happened?” Diana asked. Her stance wavered none and Ashley mentally applauded the woman.

            “That….thing is not Adelphe,” the queen spat.

            “My queen is correct. I am the Voice.” The statue moved closer to them, walking down the empty hallway. “The Voice of the Colony. The Colony of the Collector of worlds.” Glowing emeralds shone out of the eye sockets of the woman and parts of the metallic prosthetics encasing her limbs. “And you misunderstand the situation, my Queen.”

            “Enlighten me.”  The queen stood, shoving off Quinn’s attempts to assist her. Looking over her shoulder, Ashley saw the burns upon her body and a pale liquid slowly staining the dress the queen wore.

            “The Collector does not want to destroy Themscyria. But to save it.” The Voice spoke.  “For a pre-mass empire, you exemplify everything the multitude desires. And the Collector cannot allow for the planet to be taken without a remembrance. The essence of Themscyria will be retained in status, collected alongside the download of your database so that the glory of your people will be preserved.”

            “The multitude? What’s that?” Ashley asked. 

            “I’m going to try and sneak out, send word to Clark,” Gato said.  Ashley nodded, keeping an eye on the Voice.  Gato disappeared in her cloak, shuffling off behind them. If anyone noticed, no movement to acknowledge her was made.

            “Now, let us finish what has been started.” The voice made several gestures, her arms moving rapidly through the shimmering air. More green lights began to filling the room as an inhumanly smile grew across the metal mouthpiece.

            “Let’s not.” Ashley wasn’t taking any chances. She opened fire, her Vindicator mowing down the machines appearing out of the green light. Diana fired off energy blasts from her spear, blasting several of the appearing enemy into pieces and off their feet. They were like geth, but not. Like Collectors, but not. She wasn’t sure what they were, but right now her job was to kill them and survive. And then kick Clark’s ass.

            Ashley smiled to herself at the last thought as the Voice screamed at them. “No!” She fired off several rounds, cracking the metal and marble body of the Voice. “The terminauts are here to help.” The Voice waved her hands around, staring at the mess Ashley and Diana created. But as quick as they took down the machines, more began to take their place

            “We don’t need any help.” The queen stood tall behind them, despite the wounds she suffered.  The red of their blood stood out against the starch white skin. “No more will we hide behind our Gods.” Her voice rang through the halls as around them flashes of green and gunmetal flared.  “AMAZONS! DEFEND YOURSELVES!”

            And hell fell upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Our newest casting:
> 
> Barbara Gordon - - - - - - - Sophie Turner  
> Dr. Alfred Pennyworth - - - - Michael Caine  
> Artemis - - - - - - - - - - - - Gina Torres  
> Diana - - - - - - - - - - - - - Gal Godot  
> Queen Hippolyta - - - - - - - Sigourney Weaver


	11. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not posting this sooner. I had thought I did, but apparently, not. So, this gets us up to date with what is over at ff.net.
> 
> I do have the next chapter finished and will be waiting a few days before posting that here as well (it is not up at ff.net yet)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, I know it was fun to write. I did take some things from the new52 Action Comics, which if you've read it you will see it. Other that, enjoy the chapter.

Rubbing the pain away through his eyes never worked.  Not even growing up, trying to push away the hundreds of sounds flooding his brain or the millions of images filtering past one another. After a while, it all became nothing when he was a kid. And for the second time in nearly a month, he felt like a child again, struggling to control everything within him.

            “Oracle, is the analysis finished?”  He stood from the row of chairs in the starboard observation deck, which was smaller than the port observation deck, but also hidden behind several servers kept to run Oracle and the comms system.  Clark stumbled on it from a review of the schematics of the Tunisia.

            “Affirmative. Scans of the star indicate radiation levels comprised of similar bands to the spectrum to Sol.”

            “Similar, but not the same,” Clark said. Staring out of the deck, he felt the burn of the sun through the shielding.

            “No. Scans indicating the radiation occurring at much higher concentration.”

            His father guessed something about Sol, how the sun’s radiation fueled his gifts. Besides a few evenings on the front porch, they never really talked about what his potential with his gifts were, but Pa stilled tried to figure out why Clark was so different, why he struggled so much as a child only to take these leaps and bounds.

            “Can we drop the shielding only over this area of the ship?” Clark asked. He turned around, trying to find anything that could burn up under the blast of radiation. The small deck was empty save a few boxes for storage. Nothing vital or belonging to any crewmembers were held inside.

            “It is a possibility.” Oracle seemed to hesitate, but Clark felt the notion grasping at him. Even through the shields, he felt the power of the star burning inside of him. What would it mean for him without the shields? He jumped over the complex on Horizon. Under this star, would he be able to…fly?

            “Captain, we’ve got more vessels approaching.” Dick’s voice rang through the ship before he could give the order to drop the shields.

            “Oracle, let me know what the scans of the approaching ships,” Clark said. He moved back to the common area, stepping out from behind the servers. John was heading toward the elevator and stopped as Clark appeared.

            “What’s back there?” John asked. “Or is that need to know?”

            “Starboard observation. I was just doing some thinking,” Clark said, shrugging his shoulders. 

            “About?”

            “Not much, just what we’ve managed to find so far.” John nodded as they stepped onto the elevator.

            “No kidding. Alien women who look like something out of a museum. Not what I expected on our shakedown.”

            “Me neither, but I’m not sure it’s over,” Clark said. More ships approaching them could mean either the one from the Amazonians was being reinforced, or something else was coming.

            “Scans indicate a singular vessel approaching.” Oracle indicated it upon a map visible as soon as they were off the elevator. Clark stepped up, watching the large ship, much larger than theirs or the Amazonian one, speed across the system.  “All attempts to contact failing.”

            “Sir, I’ve just got word that the away team has landed safely and are heading toward the throne room,” Dick yelled over his shoulder.

            “John, head up front, see if you have to help out with the weapons system. We may need it.” Clark stared at the ship, comparing it to what he knew about the Collectors. It had to be Sovereign-class, if not larger, but somehow, lacked the crustacean appearance of Sovereign. The few glimpses he had of the Collectors’ ships showed a similar build style. So there was the possibility that this belonged to neither the Collectors or the Reapers.

            “Amazonians are heading back to the planet”

            “Thanks Dick.” Clark watched the smaller ship move first into the orbit before dropping down to land.

            “Think they know something we don’t?” Dick yelled from the cockpit again.

            “We have a comm system for a reason,” John said, loud enough that only Dick should be able to hear it, but Clark was even catching the conversation Barbara was having with Alfred about their new arrivals. Yelling really didn’t matter too much to him, but keeping a few more things a secret a little longer seemed prudent.

            “Sorry!” Dick yelled again, only to get smacked in the back of the head by John. “Sorry.” Dick repeated over the intercom.

            “Oracle, any more information on the away team?” Clark asked. The image of their shuttle still hovered over the planet.

            “Negative. All transmissions have ceased. Scans on the building where they landed indicated a shielded area, with the disruption occurring once the away team entered the building.”

            “Make a note of it for STAR Labs. The lack of communication is disconcerting.” Clark said. He leaned back against a railing, watching the vessel approach them and the planet.

            “Affirmative.”

            “Start preparing the other shuttle.” Clark moved toward the cock-pit, where Dick tried to appear busy. John at least had the good sense not to hide their eavesdropping.

            “Gears set. Ready to head out.” John stood nearly at attention.

            “Head to the bay, start flight procedures. Dick,” the pilot stopped pretending to be working at his name, “I need you to hail the away team if you can. Tell them to continue on mission, but be prepared for anything.”

            “Think something’s up?” Dick asked.

            “The Amazonians nearly attacked up, but are retreating from them?” Clark said, starting out the view point at the fast approaching ship. “They know something we don’t. Tell Barbara and Pennyworth to buckle in. Can’t be too cautious.”

            “Eye-eye Captain!” Dick threw a crappy salute before spinning back in his chair. Clark heard the echoes of Dick’s and Barbara’s conversation from both the cockpit and the engine room. She must have run back there.

            “Incoming transmission. Decoding.” Clark kept walking. He planned on meeting that ship head on, even if it meant just using the shuttle craft.

            “Decoding complete. Translating.”  Oracle’s voice carried throughout their ship, at some points following him, and others transmitting to everyone. Right now, it seemed to be going to everyone.

            “Human vessel. Send a representative to the Collector’s ship. Discussion of the situation will commence.” Oracle’s mechanical voice seemed even more broken and jarred. “The message repeats itself.”

            “The shuttle craft prepared?” Clark asked, stepping off the elevator. John stuck his head out of its door.

            “You talking to me or the VI?” The soldier didn’t wait for him to respond. John stepped off the shuttle, holding a pad in his head. “All the weapons we would need to take on army. Plus, you know, tank -” John pointed at Clark “and artillery.” He pointed at himself. His face grew solemn, nearly glaring at him. “We haven’t had this talk yet, and it’s about time we did.”

            “What talk?” Clark asked. He climbed into the shuttle and followed John up to the cockpit.  Taking a seat, he watched the other man go through the liftoff procedures.

            “You may have fought the Collectors, but you could have gotten a lot of people hurt.”

            “I got everyone I could to the safe house.” 

            “Yeah, and you did a damn good job,” John said with a nod. “We clear, kid?”

            “Clear for departure. Opening bay doors.”   Dick spoke through the comms, working the systems from his side. The doors opened, widening into the expansion of the system. Clark felt the burn of the star through the shielding. It glared across the atmosphere of the planet, shining through the viewports on the shuttle.

            “But you can’t just barge into places like this. We need a plan. We don’t know what we’re going to seeing. They aren’t going to be friendlies, not likely at any rate.” The shuttle lifted up, guided by John through the bay doors. Clark tried to hide the wince as the doors racked against the metal of the ship.

            “So what do you expect us to do?”

            “You’re the Captain, you tell me.” John glanced over at him.

            “Well, you’ll be armed, right?” Clark asked. “So let’s operate under the assumption they are not ‘friendlies,’ then take any scans we can, transmitting them back. We’ll meet the representative, and then play it by ear. Think that will work?”

            “You willing to follow my directions if we get into a firefight?” John asked. The shuttle turned, the glare lessening but the image of approaching ship becoming even more daunting.

            “Yeah, but I might call an audible.” He planned on scanning the ship, and his scans would be a lot more effective if they got into any trouble. “Tank, artillery, right?” He asked, pointing at the respective roles.

            “Damn straight,” John said. “Better suit up.”

            “What?” He finally noticed the armor the ex-soldier was wearing. Clark glanced down at his clothes. Wayne mentioned it, but it remained an afterthought for him.

            “Might be a good idea.” John said, smirking at him. “Made sure I grabbed yours. This is the last time I’m doing that; you’re going to have to gear up on your own from now on.”

            “Thanks.” Clark headed to the rear of the shuttle, chastised at the comment. He really had no idea what the hell was going on with all of this. At least he hadn’t botched this up too much.

            “You really think it’s going to be enough, just the two of us?” Clark asked . Any other time, this would feel like suicide. But right now, it felt like a cool autumn night in Kansas, when the wind picked up just right and he felt like he was gliding amongst the stars.

            “Alfred’s supervising the kids and you sent the ladies down planetside. Leaving us as the welcoming committee.” Grabbing the grey armor off the shelf of a locker, he shook his head at the absurdity of it. The shielding of most of the systems would be enough, even with his tough skin. He struggled to get it on, falling twice before managing to get armor on (and not on backwards).

            “Oracle’s got us ready and monitoring everything so we’re good to go.” John said. “You’re not going in empty handed are you?”

            “You saw what I did to that wall right?” Clark asked back, glaring slightly. He wasn’t an attacker, not intentionally. Entering somewhere with the intention of doing harm did not sit well with him, and he was going to do everything he could do.   “I don’t need a gun or any weapon to get the job done. In fact, I prefer not to, so let me do this my way. Clear?”

            “Crystal,” John said, his voice terse and clipped. They sat in silence, the looming presence of the ship stretching to block out the star.  Clark finished with the armor, finally locking it in place. Taking a few steps, he almost stumbled. Not at the weight, the armor felt like cloth to him, but at the restrictions in movement. He felt like he was going through puberty all over again.

            “Incoming transmission. Decoding.” Oracle broke the silence.

            “You ready?” John glanced at him as he took his seat.

            “We don’t really have a choice do we?” Clark asked.

            “Son of a bitch.” John jerked away from the controls, sparks flaring up momentarily before they went dark. “What in the hell?” He tapped several of the panels, trying to coax something from the system.

            “Decoding complete. Translating.” A bay door opened along the expansion of the ship. Despite the lack of controls, they continued to move forward, dragged by some unseen force into the opening. “‘You will be placed in a secure area. You will not be harmed at this time.  Please follow the indicators to meet with the Collector.’”

            “This just gets better and better,” John said under his breath. Clark shifted his vision, beginning to scan the ship they were being dragged into without any power.

            The ship was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Whatever leaps and jumps the Tunisia made in technology, this ship bounded beyond the advances of any star-faring civilization. Smooth transitions between circuitry and structure. Thousands and thousands of holding areas, no more than a meter by meter large made up the ship. Each were filled in some way with some type of shielded object, jar or a cylinder of some type, in the center of each area.  Thousands of these objects, thousands of things protected and stored and shielded and held in stasis. 

            Constructive systems operated along the edges of these shielded objects, both protecting them from any attacks and hiding them from anyone who managed to get in.  These constructive systems were also well-advanced over the factories of the Alliance or any other civilization.  But more than the protection of the hiding, the systems wove about the ship, stretching between the objects and any other areas where someone could be.  The systems were placed in patterns, with similar systems in different locations. A-B-C-D-E…etc.  It continued throughout the ship, echoing amongst the shielded areas.

            But behind the objects, behind the structure, behind the systems, an energy source rested in the center of the ship, connecting the various circuitries from throughout the ship.  Staring through the entirety of the ship, the pulsating glow mesmerized him for a moment.  Radiating like a star, shades of green refracted through the shielding and off the systems as the power worked its way to the edges.

            “You grab the earpiece?” John tapped his. The question broke Clark from his observations of the ship. He fumbled with the equipment before slipping it over his ear and in place.  “We’re going over every piece of equipment once we get back.”

            “Transmissions shifting from shuttle to armor.” Oracle said into the earpiece. The ship landed within the empty bay. The structure of the area reflected the rest of the ship from what Clark could see: organic metal protecting the valued objects of this Collector. And everything powered by that odd green source. “Scans indicate atmosphere on the ship comparable to the shuttle. Re-breathers not recommended.”

            “Fine with me.” Clark followed John as the soldier left the cockpit. John grabbed an assault rifle along with several smaller arms. “Any idea on what’s wrong with the shuttle?”

            “Nope,” John said. He checked the sighting on the rifle before stepping to the side of the door. “No problems with communication though.”

            “Attempting to override the enemy programs,” Oracle said. “Estimated time of success: unknown.”

            “That bodes well for us.” Clark stepped in front of the door. “Tank leads right?”

            “Got something right,” John said. He leveled the rifle over Clark’s shoulder. “On your count.” There wasn’t anything out there at the moment, but the construction systems were activated and something was going on out there. At least

            “Three. Two.” Clark opened the door on ‘one.’ The lights from the interior of the shuttle offered the only illumination for a moment, before John turned on another source. Glancing back, he nearly was blinded by the spotlight on John’s face.

            “Sorry.” His voice betrayed the sentiment. “Tap the earpiece. Should get the light going.” Clark nodded, turning back as he tried to adjust to the sudden darkness, again. Before he even had a chance to activate it, his earpiece activated and the light flashed on. “Good. Now, let’s see if we can’t find our host?”

            Clark walked toward the doorway, his light only illuminating so far in the expansive bay.  Darkness swirled around them and their footsteps barely echoed, as if muffled by size. But the expansive size, the echo should have been louder. Something was controlling everything here. Or someone.

            A light over the doorway nearly fifty meters away turned on. Clark heard a ruffle behind him as John leveled his rifle in that direction. The door opened and a hallway filled with the shielded objects (though John wouldn’t know that until they entered there).

            “Someone’s directing us,” John said. 

            “To where?” Clark couldn’t shift his vision, not while trying to navigate this place. But there was a burn, like he felt upon the Tunisia and in the shuttle. The last time he felt like this he was a kid in Smallville. Like his body held all the potential for everything and just waiting to become.

            They moved in silence, or as much as they could, through the bay.  The metal in the rifle shifted with each of John’s movements, like he was lining up shots. Clark wondered what the man was planning on shooting, but kept quiet. The man was too edgy for any smart comments or even questions. The shot from rifle, even at this range, wouldn’t hurt too much, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to explain everything to everyone yet.

            As they passed through the doorway, Clark stopped, the tip of the rifle brushing his left ear. He stared at the shield objects, trying to reconcile what he saw with his eyes and what he saw with his vision.

            “What’s the hold up?” Stepping further into the room, the rifle dropped.  John held his breath before letting it out in a whistle.

            As they stared through the doorway, Oracle spoke through their earpieces: “Incoming transmission. Decoding.” 

“‘Do you like my collection?’” Clark stared at what he thought was the shield objects. Instead, thousands of models of cities stretched before them, encased in something that he could not see through with his advanced vision.  Moving closer, he could make out figures inside the closest one. The cities had everything from transportation (some version of a flying car) to pets (which made even the alien lifeforms he had met so far look strange) to citizens (humanoids in this one, but advanced).

            “‘Each of these bottles houses the last of a civilization. Collected before being wiped from existence.’” John swung around, his rifle tracking nothing as Clark went back to examining the bottle.  Civilizations? “‘In advance of imminent planetary destruction and the extinction of all life, terminauts preserved significant artifacts.’

            “‘Important specimens are identified and codified as appropriate. Secure. Seal. Preserve.’”  Clicking heralded the arrival of something. A pattern of steps, the clicking grew louder as the source grew closer. John swung around, his rifle pointing into the darkness.  Signaling him, Clark slowly began to walk forward, down an illuminated path between the models of the ship.

            “‘Species 205. Scheduled to be codified and downloaded in 6.589320 standard time.’” Something moved past them, behind several of bottled civilizations. “‘Question: Why are you present within Sector 1393?’”

            “Who are you?” Clark asked, ignoring the voice’s question.

            “‘Secure. Seal. Preserve.’” Before them, the voice’s owner slid into view. Thousands of metal claws clicking against the walkway as it wrapped around to face them. The owner’s body resemble a centipede, but ended with the extended body segments and a pair of legs per segment. The fore-body rose up before wrapping around a bottle on another walkway and swinging out of view. John’s rifle remained level against it, never wavering in the horror that appeared and disappeared just as quickly before them. The voice echoed through the chamber, a chamber filled with thousands of civilizations trapped and coded.

            But the most disturbing facet of the creature was its voice. As it spoke, it started to overlap with Oracle, filling in the words with a gravelly, otherworldly sounds. From whatever it had been speaking, it now was fluent in English. And that disturbed him the most. 

             “We are the colony of the collector of worlds. We know everything there is to know. On Yod-Colu, we began as C.O.M.P.T.O. On Noma, they called us Phenumenoid. On Bryak: Mind2. On Krypton – where you were born – We were Brainiac 1.0.” Clark glanced back at John, hiding the shiver of fear – or curiosity- that ran through him. Kryptonian? Was that who he was? Were they his people? So many questions and no answers. He spent his life trying to figure out who he was, and all he was left with was no answers. “On Earth, we are the Internet.”

            “This thing was already on Earth?” John whispered, tracking figments in the dark. Clark hoped the Oracle was recording all of this. Just like with Shepard, they would need proof for someone to believe them. “And you’re an alien?”

            “We’re really going to have that conversation right now?”  Clark snapped back. His ears strained, trying to focus through the echoing march of clicks.

            “Kryptonian. Breathing. Alive. Question: Why are you present within Sector 1393? Question: Why is a Kryptonian in the presence of species 205, in the presence of a human?”

            “The planet set a distress signal. We arrived to offer aid.” Clark answered honestly.  They had walked further into the chamber, stopping at a cross-path. 

            “Question: Do you recognize the civilization behind you?” The creature, Brainiac, asked.  This being held all of the chips and all of the cards. It was like bluffing with a King and 2, off suit. For now, all Clark could do was follow its directions.

            “No,” Clark said. White, minimally armored suits rested in a casing next to another civilization. “I…I don’t.” 

            “Were you supposed to?” John asked. Clark didn’t answer, gazing at the suit before turning to stare at the civilization preserved along with it. He had never seen it prior to this bizarre day, but the familiarity rested within him. Like fleeting dreams, he saw both of these a lifetime ago.

            He remembered dreams of polygons and shapes amassed in colors beyond comprehension. These shapes danced amongst the stars and he felt them ripped away by the comforting hand of someone. The barking of a dog. The screams of joy or terror or something of a woman or a man or something. Voices speaking through phantoms and dreams echoed in crumbling chambers. All these things he grasped at in the darkness of forgotten memories that disappeared as Brainiac(s?) spoke again. 

            “We have amassed the only complete collection of Kryptonian in the known volumes of spacetime. Without the rocket-cradle – without you – the collection is incomplete.”  Other creatures began to crawl from the darkness, moving along the pathway.  “Last of a mighty race of superbeings. A level 8 Cuckoo raised on alien soil by level 3 primitives.”

            “You understanding any of this?” Clark shook his head at the question asked of him, but John seemed to begin to focus upon the enemies slowly, but surely, approaching them.

            “John, we still have a path to the shuttle?” Clark asked, ignoring John’s questions. They moved back-to-back, with the soldier focusing on the way they came.

            “For the most part.” Movements of the armored creatures increased in ferocity and intensity. Even without glancing behind him, Clark knew their previous path was no longer an option. 

            “Optimist? Or realist?” Clark asked.  The question was answered by a series of gunfire.  He lost count of the number of creatures approaching them at thirty-four, but soon found that number to be lost as they worked to defend their position. John struck first, but the enemy struck with more. Clark swung his fist at the nearest one, gripping the metal exoskeleton, as they bull-rushed him. A round pierced an eyestalk on one of the creatures to his left before the gunfire focused behind them.  He tugged on the creature, tearing a piece of creature off as he swung. The momentum threw the creature from the walkway, giving them some room, but another quickly took its place.

            Clark felt something tear at his left side as he struck at an attacking drone. He struck at the claw digging into his side, knocking it away and into another. It scrapped across his skin, a cold sensation followed quickly by an almost painful tingle. He ignored it but made sure to keep his guard up, blocking blows with the cracking armor along his forearms.

            “Collection of species 193 shall be complete in 0.00023 standard time,” Brainiac’s voice spoke over the clicking of the creatures’ metal limbs and John’s rifle. 

            Trying to get them more room, Clark smashed the creature into another, then slammed his fists into the ground. The force of his fists pulsed along the ground, turning the shattered remains into shrapnel, flying through both the attacking creatures in front of him and his quickly disintegrating armor.  This resulted in a cascade of metal creatures knocking into each other and into the abyss of the ship as they fell from the pathways. But it was like kicking water back into the ocean – waves kept coming back. Before he had a chance to do it again, another wave of creatures were upon them.

            Reaching out, he tore the leg off an approaching creature, it wiggling in distress as others took its place. Clark tried using it as a sword, tripping up and stabbing the creatures as he tried to regain his bearings.  He sloppily swung it, trying to push them back even more. Clanging metal against metal, the leg buckled under the force he used, breaking in his hands as he struck at the body of one of the creatures. The creatures crawled on top of each other, blocking blows that should have knocked him aside. Taking advantage of the chaos, Clark tried to move as fast as he could, striking with his fists against the metal. His hands began to feel numb, and despite the burn humming inside, he wondered how much more punishment he could take. Glancing behind him, he realized how little John could take.

            Clark _moved_ , stepping in front of John to clear a path. The shockwave of his continuous blows to the creatures cleared enough of a path to the shuttle that if they needed to, they could run.  John continuously fired, unknowingly at him as the soldier pressed his perceived advantage. A bullet bounced off an exposed (lost) section of Clark’s armor, bruising him. His own steps fumbled as he shifted to defend John more than destroy the creatures. He swung, stabbed, struck, stung, and generally stumbled his way through the growing mob of enemies. But his movements remained at the edge of his speed, faster than most men could imagine. The momentum of his hits carried a force not unlike a hurricane, sending blasts of creatures off into the shielded cases. _Moving_ again, Clark returned to fighting back to back, John’s rifle shots ricocheted around them, piercing some in weak spots while others flew away helplessly. 

            The battled raged, waned, then raged again, with waves of the creatures approaching them. Clark danced through this battle like it was his senior prom, only with less breaking of toes. 

            “We don’t have much time.” John grunted. Clark heard the sound of metal piercing flesh, tearing and retreating to strike again. He grabbed John’s shoulder for leverage, pulling the soldier down. He _moved_ striking the machine as it approached. The blow sent a shockwave through it and several behind it, blasting them off the pathway. Again. He repeated the strike to one in front of him, _moving_ to the point of being unseen by normal visual receptors. The pair of strikes gave them a lull in the battle that lasted long enough to let John catch his breath.

            “What…?” John asked. He used his rifle to lift him up off the ground. Clark tossed the piece of broken armor off his chest onto the ground. “How the hell?”

            “Hold still?” Clark caught John as the older man stumbled into him.  His vision shifted as he took stock of John’s injuries, shifting through the depths of x-ray. “You’ve got a few cracked ribs, but the laceration is superficial.”

            “You just knocked the wind out of me.” John pushed off him and stood upright, a medigel taking care of the cut in a few moments. “We need to retreat.”

            “Yes, well, no.” Clark said. “You need to get to the shuttle. Get to the ship and start preparing for any more attacks.” Glancing around, he quickly found their shuttle. “Oracle should have it repaired, if not, upload everything you can from there to the Tunisia.”  The clicking was grew louder, echoing just below the level of hear for a normal human being. But he wasn’t normal. Or human.

            “What are you going to do?” John shouldered his rifle. Clark emptied his pockets, handing the man the heat sinks he had left in the armor. They weren’t much, but he hadn’t used any and none of their enemies used weapons which dropped some.  “You can’t stay here.”

            “I won’t. We’re being delayed.”

            “You think?” John asked. “Now, come on, let’s get out of here.”  He motioned toward the docking bay, where their shuttle was.

            “You will not escape, Kryptonian. Download of species 193: 99.99784921% complete.” Brainaic’s voice echoed through the chamber. Behind the voice, he heard the construction systems roaring to life, the clicking of marching drones, and the echoes of a factory ringing through the ship.

            “We will, just head back to the ship.” Clark turned to look at the armor in the case for a moment, before giving the soldier his attention. “Just go, I’ll catch up. I’ll hold them off as long as I can, but you need to get the systems started.” John stared at him for a moment, measuring him before nodding and running toward their shuttle. Satisfied with the response, Clark returned to looking at artifact held in the case.

            The armor has to be from his people. They were stored in relation to one another, and the designs on the armor reflected the architecture of the city. But more than that, he felt something, like a connection, when he looked at it. He only felt that way when he held the baseball mitt Pa gave him, the one handed down from his grandfather to Pa and from Pa to him.

            “You can’t save them.” Brainiac spoke softly, as if right behind him and whispering in his ear. “Species 193 will be collected, sealed, and preserved along with the rest of my collections.”

            “Only one city though.”  Clark concentrated on John’s footsteps, counting them as he made his way to safety. Or some fascmile of it. The soldier needed to get back to Tunisia, if only to warn the others. “What of the rest of the planet?”

            “It will be removed from the system to prevent the Multitude from accessing its potential.”  The pit of fear deepened, leaving him with few options.

            “What of my fr – my crew members, the ones who went down to the planet?”

            “They will be removed from the preserved state,” Brainiac said, responding in a calm and collected voice. A machine speaking of destruction like it was a rational choice. For it, maybe the choice was.

            “That’s what I thought.” Over the clicking of metal feet and claws, Clark heard the door of the shuttle slam shut behind John. “Oracle, if you can hear me: Get him the hell out of here!” The rush of blood nearly drowned the sound, but the shuttle’s engines kicked on, getting John out of ship and back to their own. Over the blast of the shuttle’s engines, he heard John’s curses before they disappeared into space. Now all he had to do was worry about his people on the planet below.

            Slamming his hand into the glass, Clark felt it crack beneath the force of the blow.  It reverberated up his arm, surprising him. Whatever was shielding the collections, it was stronger than anything, even any metal, he had come up against.  Reaching back, he forced his arm through the shielding, the glass shattering but not cutting him.  He tore his armor from his body, slipping the news armor on through wild throws against the approaching enemy. Their metal tore at his uncovered flesh, the painful tingling turning into a wretched ache, and then into a nearly unbearable agony. But as he covered himself with armor, their attacks were reduced to almost nothing.  The agony remained, but the onslaught diminished.

            “No! You must not break the seal!” Brainiac’s cries only brought more enemies forward as the construction systems seemed increase production.

            The armor fit him, and for the first time since recognizing it, he felt the burn of the sun lessening. He flexed his arm, feeling the burn pulse through it at first, then the rest of his body.  He felt plugged in, energized to a point where he had to do something. Where he could do anything.  And all he wanted to do right now was save his people.

            Clark _moved,_ now passing though the creatures, dissecting their bodies into two instead of blasting them off the path.  His steps rocked the pathway, bursting the ground beneath his feet.  His senses stretched, nearly blinding and deafening as he heard millions of cries of anguish and despair through the void of space. The burn changed, become a flame engulfing him with every step forward, every burst of movement beyond the capacity even he thought possible.  Everything seemed to be passing through into him. He absorbed everything. Every sound, every ray of light, and though it seemed impossible, Clark felt like he was absorbing everything thought as well, but he couldn’t grasp onto any of them. For all that he could see or hear, he was blinded by the now enflamed core of his being.

            Flames surrounded his thoughts, forcing him to see beyond his senses and visions.  His struggles contradicted his movements. With every step he took, _moving_ through creatures and along the pathways of the ship, he stepped closer to the hull and closer to the planet. But with every step, he felt the agony of the flames stripping him of his senses, of the control he worked so hard to maintain. His thoughts raced faster than his feet, punching through synapses as he broke the ground beneath him. Without his control, he was falling.

            The pathways broke apart, finally giving way to the force of his steps and the thunder of his gait. He barely noticed as he struggled to hold onto a single thought. Something to carry him through the flames of the star burning in the distance; he needed something tangible and real, something he could focus ever sense on, if only to not disappear into the flames.

            But the mission wasn’t over. Not for them and not for him.  he focused on a single voice. On a single person. And through the structure of the ship of the Collector, through the echoes of battles below against an enemy even he barely survived, Clark heard a cry for help. Or rather, an expletive.

            “Fuck this! Come on! Work you stupid-piece-of-shit!”

**I0I**

**About Twenty Minutes Ago**

            Only moments before, they were on a peaceful, diplomatic mission, before everything turned to shit. She fired off a few rounds, counting the number left in her clip as the terminauts advanced on them. Now, they were fleeing for their lives, racing against a timer with an unknown amount of time left on it.

            Holstering her assault rifle, Ashley ran forward, sliding along the floor and between several of the terminauts (mechanical creatures not unlike the Geth) as an Amazonian warrior fell to their odd energy attacks. She grabbed the fallen warrior’s spear, using it to lift herself back up onto two feet.  Her vault threw her into a terminaut as it tried to fire off a round at Goto’s back. Thrusting forward, she pierced the body cavity of one terminaut and fired off a round into another behind it. Both fell as she swung the spear behind her, charging the weapon as it hummed with energy again.

            Ashley turned around, swinging the spear and firing off a round of energy. The blue bolt knocked the shoulder-plate of a terminauts, and Quinn’s burst of biotics slammed it into the ground like a mallet.  Their enemy fell apart, crunching beneath the force of the biotic field.  A wild grin appeared on the biotic’s face before she somersaulted over a terminaut to return back to the queen’s side.

            Diana showed her superiority with the spear, dancing between blasts and  strikes.  Blocking with her shield, the blasts didn’t even faze her. Sticking and striking. The warrior’s fluid swings wrought havoc, rendering the terminauts off-balance as they arrived before the group. Like a ballerina on steroids, Diana flashed between statue and animation, her movements just on the edge of Ashley’s perception.

            Before she could return to her teammates, several terminauts fired on her. She stumbled backward, using the spear to remain upright as much as she could. Over the rush to blood to her head, Ashley heard a woman cry out. Her shield upheld against the blasts, but the installed computer noted the drain.  Using the spear in one hand to hold her steady, she reached back and unholstered her rifle. She wouldn’t be able to aim, but between the two, she didn’t plan on being a sniper at the moment. She couldn’t take another round of shots like that, her shields wouldn’t handle it.

            “Drop!” Ashley screamed, trying to be heard over the gunfire and blasts.  The Vindicator and spear fired in tandem, mowing down the terminauts. Together, the shots from both resulted in an unyielding force of destruction.  The blasts from the spear followed behind the rifle shots, quickly forcing the bullets deeper and further into the armor of the terminauts.  She emptied her clip, trying to give them a little breathing room.

            Letting out a long drawn out breath, Ashley blinked. She finally released her trigger finger, holstering her rifle. No new enemies were appearing, giving them a chance to recover.  Her team and the Amazonians slowly climbed to their feet, weapons readied and eyes glancing around the now empty hallway.

            “You are a fine warrior,” Diana said, slamming her hand on Ashley’s shoulder. She nearly buckled under the force, but the spear gave her enough stability to remain standing.

            “Thanks,” she muttered.

            “That. Was. AWESOME!” Quinn bounced over to her, vibrating with excitement. Goto hadn’t made it back to the shuttle, running back to alert them of the now crowded hallway, which is where they stood. The thief was holding the queen up, trying to patch the wound no medi-gel would heal.  The red stain spread from the gown, spreading down her leg.

            “We…we need to go,” the queen said, her voice soft.  Diana’s face morphed from triumphant to dismay as she rushed back to her mother’s side. The two spoke in whispers, letting Goto move to her.

            “Think you could leave the goods intact?” Goto’s thieving eyes roamed the hallway from underneath her hood.  The thief returned to the group, after finding the hallway filled with enemies. They couldn’t get through to the Tunisia and Oracle wasn’t responding to their hails. Terminauts forced them to move slowly, earning every inch of ground.

            “You ever face anything like this before?” Goto asked, her voice now humorless.  Ashley looked at the thief then back to the broken pillar several yards behind them. Quinn had been hiding behind it, and narrowly avoided being killed when a terminaut fired on it.

            “No. Even the geth weren’t like this.”  Ashley checked her comparments, trying not to let the distress show. She was low on clips, too low. “At least they used normal weapons. We’re left with whatever we came in with, and they’re going to wear us down to nothing if we don’t move.” 

            “My mother needs medical attention.”  Diana called out. Quinn knelt besides the queen, out of the line of sight of either Amazonian. Meeting Ashley’s gaze, the biotic shook her head. “How much further to your shuttle?”

            “Not much now,” Ashley said. “Let’s hope everyone is okay too.” It was like Eden Prime all over again, but this time…this time she had a team still alive with her. And no Shepard to save her ass. 

            They walked slowly, ever aware of an unseen clock counting down. Whatever this Collector wanted, they wouldn’t be able to stop the madman from down here. Their only hope was getting to the shuttle, but the lull in the waves seemed false.  Ashley gripped the spear, watching ahead for any flashes of green light. As they reached the shuttle bay, there was a collective sigh of relief. Ashley had never heard or experienced one before, but this entire situation was unlike anything she had ever experienced. 

            There hadn’t been any fighting in the shuttlebay and it looked intake, but since the time they landed and the battle started, it had gotten dark.  Ashley turned a light on, her earpiece illuminating some of the shuttlebay. Quinn and Goto quickly followed suit.

            “Goto, start it up and see if you can get the Tunisia on the comms.” The thief ran to the shuttle, the light bouncing in front of her. She turned back to meeting the worried gaze of Diana.  “What?”

            “It is not nightfall for six more hours. Has Helios fallen?”

            “No,” the queen spoke before Ashley could ask the Amazonian to explain.  “The Collector is here, and you need to go.”

            “Exactly, so come on; let’s get you on the ship.”  Ashley moved to help the queen stand upright, only to be pushed away. Hard.

            She skidded across the floor, stopping after falling ass over teakettle. Quinn had turned from kindly assistant to pissed-off, her weapon out of its holster and aimed directly at the queen.  Despite appearing to be marble and looking statuesque at times, Diana finally appeared rigid, confusion etched into her skin.

            “We’re deadlocked,” Goto stuck her head out of the shuttle, glancing at Ashley before drawing her submachine gun and pointing it at the queen as well.

            “Daughter, please. Go with them.” The queen stood regally, calmly enunciating every syllable. Ashley pulled herself to her feet, the spear gripped tightly in her hand.

            “You sent a distress signal, you wanted someone to save us,” Diana said. “Please, we need to go.”

            “No. No, I wanted someone to save you.” The queen took a step back from the shuttle. “I order the signal be sent, in hopes that someone would arrive here in time. Although I wish we had more time, you need to leave. Now.”

            “You knew this was going to happen,” Ashley said. She stomped forward, glaring up at the queen. Despite the height advantage, the queen broke eye contact, turning completely to watch the hallway behind them. “Whatever the hell is up there contacted you, and you knew this was going to happen.” She pointed toward the darken sky, the sun blotted out by something massive.  “So you sent a message out, and whatever band you could to, asking someone to save your daughter.”

            “Yes. Gods forgive me. I gave up my world to save my daughter,” the queen said. “I love you Diana. And someday, you’ll understand.”

            “Ash, we need to go,” Goto said. The thief lowered her weapon, motioning them to get into the shuttle. “I think I’ve got it working, but we need to go. Now.” The darkness grew worse, and in the distance, explosions rang through the valley.  This planet was more perfect than Eden Prime, more beautiful than any asari world. Somehow, the Amazonians lived in paradise, but whatever this Collector was, it came along with the terminauts.

            “Diana,” Ashley said. She had a mission, and she never shied from trying to finish it. She told the Alliance about Shepard and Cerberus, because that was her mission. She reported on the geth and took down Saren with the commander as well. Now, she was on a paradise planet that looked primed for destruction. Enemies and gods rained down around them and the temple shook with a righteous fury. But over the devastation and the chaos, she heard the cries of women railing against the night. “Get into the shuttle.”

            “No. I won’t leave you, mother.” 

            “As your queen, I am giving you an order. Get on that ship. Now!” Her voice echoed, screaming through the explosions and the cries for help from outside. Ashley watched as the warrior before transformed into a frightened little girl.

            “But…” Diana’s voice died on her lips before hanging her head low. Her black hair hid her pale face. Quinn quickly got her onto the ship, nodding back at her.  Ashley moved to the entrance, standing just outside of it. She still had a hold of her spear in one hand, but used the other to hold onto the doorway balance her body, fighting the exhaustion for a little while longer. 

            “We’ve got her ma’am, let’s go.” Ashley motioned to the queen to join them. 

            “They are going to take this city.” The queen’s gaze returned to the hallway. “It will preserve us. Some of us. But my people will die in vain.”

            “Ma’am?” Behind her, she heard Goto arguing with Oracle about the shuttle. Down the hallway, flashes of green light signaled a new wave.

            “They will not harm me. Not anymore. I am to be preserved along with the remains of my people.” She slowly walked, her footsteps measured.  She stopped only a few feet into the hallway before turning to look back at her. “I’ve ordered our systems to upload everything they could handle about our people, if only for my daughter.  I will hold them off as long as I can, but you need to leave. Now.” The queen left the shuttlebay. A trail of blood remained the only evidence of her presence. Ashley let out a long breath before swinging herself back into the shuttle.

            “Why aren’t we flying?” She asked over the roar of several explosions too close for comfort.

            “It’s not working. We’ve got comms back up, but even Oracle can’t figure out why.” Goto tapped madly at the panels in front of her. Quinn was talking quietly with Diana in the back, the spear and shield hanging limply at the Amazonian’s side.  Both were strapped in, expecting to leave. Ashley took the seat next to Goto, beginning to try her own prescription of randomness, if only to give her adrenaline something to work through.

            “Come on, come on.” Ashley muttered, slamming buttons, dialing knobs, pushing, pulling, everything. They made it through waves of terminauts, a mother-daughter spat, only to be taken out by a defunct shuttle?

            “We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” Goto asked. Her voice level, but soft, almost inaudible.  It was the reality of the situation. As a soldier, she prepared for this. But as human, she wasn’t giving in without a fight.

            “No.” She stood from her chair, grabbing the rifle she let drop earlier. “Fuck this!” She reached back and slammed the butt of it into the console.  The display flickered, breaking apart before repairing almost immediately. “Come on!” She slammed it again and again, trying to force the damn thing to work through sheer will and anger. “Work you piece of shit!”

            As the butt of her rifle struck the console one last time, the shuttle lurched upward. She fell, her head banging against Goto’s chair. Holding her rifle in one hand and the chair in the other, she braced herself as the shuttle speed upward in an angle she only trained under. Behind her, she heard Quinn screaming (in joy?) over the roar of explosions below.

            “It’s not us,” Goto said, trying to work what remained of the console.

            “No shit.” Ashley gritted her teeth, trying to bite back the bile rising up in her throat.

            The force of their ascent was too great, pushing her into the floor. Even trying to stand was too much, and the world spun, just a little. It pressed her into the floor, dragging her back down to the planet even as they were propelled upward and onward.  She felt like she was in basic again, and her mind wandered back there, to the exercises and training under different gravities, dry launches, and even force emulations of liftoffs. Her body dug into the grooves of the floor, clinging to Goto’s chair to even remain in a position she could control.

            They flew upward, before gradually slowing. Goto helped her, pulling her vertical just enough so that she could get the rest of the way up. The shuttle leveled out as they decreased in speed, though Quinn’s voice kept echoing as her scream finally died away. She reached back, her fingers gently pressing against the lump forming on her head. Her body felt slow, like she was moving through molasses. 

            “What happened?” Diana demanded. Her footsteps echoed through the shuttle, stomping up to the cockpit.

            “I’m not sure,” Ashley said. She pushed off the chair, letting world tilt for a bit. “I think…I think we’re back on the- the Tunisia.” Behind her she heard shuffling, but she waved off the hands gripping her shoulder. “Oracle.”

            “You are correct in your assessment of the surroundings Chief Williams. You have been returned to the Tunisia. Doctor Pennyworth has been notified of your arrival and will be down shortly.” Oracle’s voice echoed from the intercoms on the shuttle and shuttlebay itself.  “Fire safety protocols engaged.”

            “What?” Ashley looked up at that before stumbling her way to the door. She pounded on the door, it sliding open even as the safety systems vented flame retardant foam, dousing a flaming form in front of them. 

            “Damn, looks like you got out of there just in time,” John said from somewhere behind her. She turned to look at him, holding onto the door frame even as the world spun and tilt. The other soldier held a bloody bandage to his torso, even as the doc tried to patch him up.  He used the

            “Don’t know how,” Ashley said shaking her head. “Couldn’t activate any of the systems on board.” She leaned against the shuttle, shuffling along to the back end of it. The sheered metal crunched together, folded inwards in grips. “What…?” She tore her eyes from the broken mess of their shuttle to the mess on the floor of foam.

            “Yeah…” Clark’s voice spooked her, and she jumped slightly before groaning. The dull ache turned into a throb in her skull. Ashley felt her face turn hot or maybe it was her entire body. She’d seen Clark without a shirt on but this…

            The fire doused, the form of a man pushed up off the ground, coughing and choking with each movement. Black hairs stuck out from the foam covered head, but the blue eyes blinking through the chemicals. Eye belonging to their captain, and attached to a body burnt nearly beyond her belief, but somehow, it seemed to be healing. The skin crackled with his movements, red mixing with the foam as it flowed to the ground. But the breaks in his skin reattached to itself, edges being mended back together, as if to being treated. It looked like the symbol attached to his chest acted as medigel. The foam covered him, just enough to maintain his modesty (damn foam!), but it quickly began to dissolve, leaving him a hot mess of attractive burns, bruises, and blood. Her brain tried to comprehend the man standing in front of her, leaning on his knees as he tried to breathe deeply only to cough up then spit out blood.

            “What is that strange thing attached to him?” Diana asked, poking her head out of the shuttle. She stared at Clark, though not with the same intensity as she (or the other girls did)

            “What?” The foamed man managed to get out. The blue eyes met hers before she dropped her gaze slightly. His eyes followed, and quicker than she could see, he covered himself.

            “You going to keep losing your pants?” She asked. The world spun faster and faster, and she tried to lean back, but somehow managed to lean forward in her confusion. As fast as his hands retained his modesty, strong hands wrapped her arms to keep her upright.

            “Not blacking out on me now are you?” Clark asked.

            “No sir. Just feeling a little sick.”

            “Concussion?” 

            “Aye, aye, captain,” Ashley said. She wanted to nod, but the bile in the back of her throat wouldn’t settle.  “Your fault, sir.”

            “My fault?” Clark asked. The doc moved over to them, brushing her captain aside. A bright light shined in eyes, moving left to right. She tried to follow it, her eyes sluggishly moving.

            “No other problems? Just the headache?” Pennyworth asked. She shook her head. “Well, you’re certainly a lot easier to deal with than the men on this ship.”

            “Always do,” Ashley said, puffing up her chest with pride. “Besides, wasn’t hurt until the captain barged in and broke up our exit.”

            “Barged in?” Clark coughed. “Brok-broke up.” He wiped up face, foam and skin brushing off to reveal a pink shine.

            “Good look for you.” Ashley said as Pennyworth kept working, checking her vitals. “Hey, how come he doesn’t get a checkup?”

            “I assure you madam; Mister Kent will be examined thorough, once he finds some pants.”

            “No rush!” Quinn’s voice echoed from shuttlebay. She must have been escorting Diana upstairs.  Pennyworth grabbed her jaw, holding it in place as she sought everyone else out in the bay.

            “Hold still,” Pennyworth said.  

            “What happened down there?” Ashley asked, ignoring comment. Clark finally looked away from her gaze. “Captain?”

            “They…”  He seemed to gather himself, lifting his shoulders back. “The Collector succeeded in bottling the city you were in.”

            “Why would he do that?” Ashley asked. Her head began to clear, but before Clark could respond, Pennyworth interrupted. Again.

            “You’ll get no more answers.” He lifted her. For an old man, his firm fingers held fast. “And you won’t be giving her any.” Pennyworth turned to face Clark, not letting go of her head. She remained still, and the room finally stopped spinning on her. “Not until I run a complete check up on her, and on you.”  The form of Clark nodded, as things started to get fuzzy instead of spinny.  “Get some pants on then meet me in the infirmary. We shall have Chief Williams at least ready to ask questions and I can begin my assessment of you.”

            “I’m fine,” Clark said. His voice sounded rough, and he hacked up another red blob onto the floor.

            “All evidence indicates otherwise,” Pennyworth said in a dry, exasperated tone.  “Now, hold onto my arm and I’ll guide you to the elevator. Captain Kent, I suggest you join us.” Obviously it wasn’t a suggestion. Ashley smiled as she felt his presence behind her as Pennyworth helped her remain stable. For once, she was anxious to get to medical, if only to leave sooner. Then maybe she’d have some answers to all these damn questions.

            Their first mission felt like a failure, and on paper it was, but the weight on Clark’s shoulders pushed him down into an unexpected slump. Whatever happened while the away team dealt with the trouble on the planet (admirable, given they were underfire for most of their time away), something else seemed to bother him. The captain didn’t even question the presence of Diana or what happened to him, so whatever was bothering him had to be something big. But the most important question on Ashley’s mind was: what the hell happened to his pants?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> This story is cross-published with fanfiction.net/ under the account name gwmclintock9. 
> 
> Superman and related information is owned by Warner Bros, published by DC Comics, and created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster.  
> Mass Effect and related information is published by Electronic Arts, and created by Bioware.
> 
> The combination of ideas and the implementation of information currently are mine. As of right now, the alternative universe I've created here for both is not open to other writers, but it is open to artists. 
> 
> Comments and criticism are welcome.
> 
> To date, these are the characters and respective actors who could fulfill the roles (in order of appearance within the story):  
> Clark Kent - - - - - - - Henry Cavill  
> Ashley Williams - - - Sarah Shahi  
> John Shepard - - - - - Aaron Eckhart or Charles Hunnam  
> Miranda Lawson - - - Yvonne Strahovski  
> Zaeed Masini - - - - - Gerard Butler  
> Garrus Vakarian - - - Jeremy Renner  
> EDI - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Tricia Helfer  
> Mordin Solus - - - - - David Tennant  
> Dr. Karin Chakwas - Carolyn Seymour  
> Jack - - - - - - - - - - - - Natalie Portman  
> David Anderson- - - - - -Keith David  
> Bruce Wayne - - - - - - -Ben Affleck  
> Pamela Isley - - - - - - - - Isla Fisher  
> Kasumi Goto - - - - - - - - Maggie Q  
> John Stewart - - - - - - - - - Idris Elba  
> Selena Kyle - - - - - - - - - - Anne Hathaway  
> The Illusive Man - - - - - - - Martin Sheen  
> Lex Luthor - - - - - - - - - - - Damien Lewis or Faran Tahir  
> Tali’Zorah nar Rayya - - - - Lea Michelle  
> Dr. Harley Quinnzel - - - - - Freema Agyeman  
> Dick Grayson - - - - - - - - - Logan Lerman  
> Barbara Gordon…Sophie Turner  
> Dr. Alfred Pennyworth…Michael Caine  
> Artemis…Gina Torres  
> Diana…Gal Godot  
> Queen Hippolyta…Sigourney Weaver  
> Brainiac…James Marsters  
> Good night and good luck.


End file.
